CXMAS - When Well-Adjusted, Respected Citizens Go Bad

Greetings, Champions of the Team Seagal Cause! I bet you didn't think it was going to happen. Neither did I. In fact, having been in somewhat-of-a-daze these last few months, I didn't think much at all was happening, besides losing battle after battle to the Troll of Laziness that lives in my belly. After many inquiries and continuous trip to Mt. Kohler, Lawman made it happen at nearly the last minute. Only slightly less ambitious of the more recent versions, this year marked a return to the site of, in my opinion, what was the best CXMAS - a CXMAS rife with controversy and butthurt. This year, we were moar subtle and discrete about our indiscretions and secretions.

Last-minute status aside, there were still somewhere in the toilet bowl of 100 like-minded jerks that showed up. Hard to believe that many people had nothing else to do and nowhere else to be on the weekend in between Christmas and New Years, and therefore elected to ride their bikes in some dreary, windy, frozen-ass, gas-ass-sheep weather.

The Ultimate Jerk, dispensing instructions

 As usual, Rudolph the PBR-nosed Dave was in attendance, to make sure that people were able to receive some badass Pabst shwag:

This year also marked the glorious return of Santa-Boz, who has a new, titanium sleigh that has improved snow-handling characteristics:

Note the fender hopeless tasked with defending against spray from a tire much wider than the fender itself

Not only was Santa-boz on his fatbike, but I believe that this year's CXMAS may have coincided with the local chapter of the national Dudes-On-Fatbikes Club, otherwise known as "Dudes on Fatties." There were more than a just few of them, and I was actually surprised to have not been lobbied for a "fat bike category," especially after an unsuccessful attempt at an official one in the Bubba races.

I suspect I know the real reason for all the fat bikes cropping up lately. Despite the lack of conditions in Missouri that provide a platform for them to be fully advantageous, they want to have the excuse I hear at the shop on a regular basis when the customer insists on purchasing a mountain bike instead of a road bike - even though they admit they'll never ride off pavement. "Well you know, if it's harder that's fine, I'm just getting a better work-out that way. You know."

It was windy as fuck (WAF) at the mound this day, and I think that served to motivate us to depart promptly. Fortunately, I had my new windproof uber-thermal tights, and oooweeee, I was in comfort-land. This is in stark contrast to Mark "Hardman" Grumpke's thermal leg-wear:

Seeing Mark's ability to give the weather a huge middle finger reminded me of something:

 Hell yes.

Continuing on in our jerk-infested escapes, I passed by one Nick "Red Wheel Bikes/Baby Clothes" Smith who had simply this to say:

I love riding through Busch Wildlife:

Stopping for a minute, I could hear the sound of a monster trucks coming down the road in a group:

It wasn't long, before I was fortunate enough to run into Bob "Disqualified in The Past For Attempting to Race Shirtless" Jenkins, and he had what may be the best CXMAS "get" evar:

Yeah, that's a 1990 issue - coincidentally one that I remember getting to look (somehow) when I was but a wee jerk. You shouldn't be surprised - seeing something like that really "sticks" to your memory, not unlike so many pages of this very magazine. Ah Playboy, thanks for the mammaries memories.

After about 15-20 minutes taking turns behind a large tree, we had to get back on the road as we were behind. We vowed to NEVER GIVE UP, and continually reminded ourselves of how motivated we are to succeed, because it is only ourselves that can keep us from being who we want to be. Don't Forget, Bob.

A few miles down the road, and further into the woods, we came a large group of people huddled together, much like emperor penguins on a glacier, shielding themselves from the wind. As it turns out, we found the obligatory Egg Nog station, and the start line of the only bicycle race to ever take place completely within the confines of Busch. I had to stop for some moonshine, courtesy of "The" Mitch:

Fortunately, that wasn't the only bottle of it.

These three weren't even aware of CXMAS: they were already drinking alone out in the woods and we happened to show up. What are the odds!

Claire, Tom "Foolery" Marsh, and (Marty?)

After some general rabble-rousing, hijinks, funny business and shenanigans, the CXMAS Dirt Crit was about to start:

And it was on:

What were we thinking? What a terrible idea. Fortunately, I was able to turn to Rock, who would be the voice of reason and responsibility:

I'll be honest, I don't even really know who won what, but we gave away some pretty shweet Pabst Shtuff to the chicks, the dudes, and the one-gears:

By this point, we had all been standing around for quite a while, and the slow trickle of body warmth escaping my nice, expensive breathable cycling clothing had left me with little heat in my body, except for in my colon, where my slowly-building steamer was maintaining the necessary heat required for a proper jenkem high, later.

So we had to depart, leaving no trace that we were there. But very shortly down the trail, we had to stop again, and revisit CXMAS's past, specifically the site where Mr. Jenkins originally set the bar (seemingly) un-attainably high in terms of egg-nog ingested:

2009

2013

Let's not forget the fat coiler that some human left there that year as well.

We didn't have far to go now, and most of that distance we'd be going with the wind at our backs. Up until now, that wind had been more annoying than the thought of having a saddlebag mounted like this:

This next picture encompasses a sort of "white whale" for me. In Busch Wildlife, there are countless of old munitions bunkers, scattered throughout the hills. And they are all numbered, usually with three numbers. I have been dreaming of finding a bunker with the number "666" on it for years. I am proud to say, that on the ride back to the car, I finally found it:

So what if the last 6 was spray painted. It exists, and so I'll be heading back out there to set up a death metal recording studio in the coming weeks. FUCK YES. \m/





I was very glad to finally reach the vehicle, at which point I pissed on a concrete block, and then Brett and I followed the leader to a nearby eatery in Dante's outer circle of hell - AKA The Chesterfield Valley. At this eatery we found several dozen more CXMAS'ers eating and drinking. What an excellent way to finish a ride which is already an excellent year-finisher for everyone around these parts who rides.

Stay tuned, for there is more to come. In the meantime, get familiar with the Bluff View Trail.

-C"Rot"ch


P.S. Digiorno and Titty are fucking jerks.

CXMas Teh 6th special edition

http://teamseagal-cxmas.blogspot.com/

that is all.

Two Rivers MTB Park

Greetings, Team Seagal Fans! It has been a long time, no-see. These days, ole' Crotchy doesn't get out of the house much, let alone out of town. I mean, the last time this Jerk ventured out of this state for a road trip with his bike was definitely a few years ago. In the meantime, I've been carefully sculpting, with the help of many a carbonated and fermented-beverage, a Zipp-Firecrest-like stomach, to assist with aerodynamics. Complete with a centrally-located dimple, surrounded by hair.

So despite not participating in much lately and not updating this much this year, I though I'd share the experience of a new trail many of you probably had not ridden yet. The opportunity came about to get out of town for a day to go check out something new with a couple of partners in crime, so I jumped on that chance like I would a freshly-opened bag of Doritos after a night of Wizard Sticks. Narrowly escaping the high winds at Mt. Pleasant CX with Lawman, I made my escape and headed towards Springfield, bike in tow. My goal was to meet Sean and Casey, where we would commence gnar-shredding procedures the next day at the new-ish Two Rivers Mountain Bike Park, near Springfield, MO.


Next day arrives, and we venture out first in search of breakfast provisions, which we found at the Gold Star Diner in beautiful Billings, MO. A place frozen in time, as it still allowed smoking indoors. I felt like Lloyd Christmas in Dumb and Dumber:

 "Feels good to mingle with these laid-back country-folk, don't it, Harry?"

Not long after finishing the B&G (biscuits and gravy), eggs, sausage and waffles, we grabbed our shit and set a course for the trailhead, which we found with minimal (not zero) drama. On a beautiful, sunny Monday morning, we rolled into a quiet gravel lot, where we found awesome facilities - changing room, portable pooper, wide open fields (that may allow camping?) free Wifi, map of the trailhead, and a fun little skills park right there. My first thought was how perfect of a venue this would be for a mountain bike festival, a 12/24 hour race, an XC race, any number of things. Super clean.

What else did I see off the edge of the lot? A shuttle-able slope-style run:

Kinda hard to see, but that is like 9-10 badass bermed-out switch-backs, with a wooden wall-ride.

I had not even hopped on my bike, and yet I had already seen more berms than currently exist in the rest of this state!

And there were still almost 10 miles of trail to ride.

The three of us, Casey (his second time mountain biking, ever), Sean (long-time supporter of big tobacco), and myself, the Unflushable Turd. Of course, we start out with a fairly lengthy climb, which brought back memories of gravy-drenched breakfasts and a year of daily drinking. We crested near the top of the slope-style run, and decided to hit it - too bad I left my dropper-post at the store, because I never actually bought one. No matter, we bombed that thing like the Council Bluff pit toilets, and got to the bottom thinking "Holy shit, what was that?!" All I knew was that "I wanted to do it again."

Venturing back up the same hill, we found our way towards the start of the "West Trail" after passing the entry runway for the DH Flow Trail, for which I was more excited than Criss Angel backstage at a One Direction concert:

We continued onto the West Trail, which was a large loop that was definitely a "XC"-style trail, but one that was obviously designed by the same people who are designing flowy gravity-runs. What do I mean by that? These are BUUUUUFFFFFF trails that provide ample opportunity for putting space between your tire-tread and the trail-surface in the form of wicked air, brah. Not that you have to take these opportunities, but while riding the XC trail, expect that little rises and undulation in the terrain will scream out for you to hit the gas for a few pedal strokes, resulting in fun little pump-track sections that are perfectly suited for a XC/trail bike.

Sean-naynay on the "Bluff Line" section

Oh yeah, did I mention that sprinkled throughout the trail there are man-made stunts that are low on the drama-scale, but high on the fun scale?

Not to mention all the tee-totters and other randomly-strewn skinnies that we encountered while riding the "West Trail." Plenty of natural obstacles were utilized, and it was pretty obvious that most of the hills were designed for maximum fun while descending, which meant sweeping turns and periodic rises in the ground that would be perfect for air-ing it out. Which isn't to say that the climbing was horrible - as a 225lb dude on a singlespeed 29'er, the climbs were gravely-and-smooth, not-eroded, with occasional short sections where I'd have to be out of the saddle to muscle a steep spot into submission. Did I mention buff? It was clear that in the not-so-distant past, perhaps only a few days prior, someone had taken a leaf-blower to the trail and made it even easier for us to find our way.

After riding the 8-ish mile West Trail, we found ourselves having climbed back to the top of the DH run, which starts with an opening-ramp, shoots you into two tabletops, into a wall ride, and then into the woods for more one-way shredding. It is all "roll-able" and doesn't require you to commit to massive speed and drops, but it certainly rewards you if you do:

Hey Ladies, there's moar than enough to go around...

 

2nd time mountain biking, for this guy. Nice!

Few feet down the trail, the gnar' bar was raised:

Expendables-esque level of badassery. This wall ride (one of 3 or 4 that I saw) led us right down the one-way DH trail, which was totally ridable on an XC-oriented bike like we had. It would be more fun with with a proper bike, but you'll be finishing that short run with a huge smile on your ugly face sooner than you can say "fully-active suspension."  Oooooo-fucking-wee.

Ending that run with the confidence that Shimano hydraulic brakes allow, we worked our way over to the trailhead where we unloaded our pockets so that we could play around on the "skills park."

The skills park was all laid out right next to the parking lot, so you don't have far to go. That way, much like a Cross-fitter with a smartphone, everyone can see how totally awesome you are.

One of the many things that make this park special is the fact that it was designed as a whole unit, as opposed to most other trails that happen to be in a park, and evolve over the course of years, sometimes decades (not that that is necessarily a bad thing.) The trail network is extremely well-marked, flows better than my colon after drinking an entire pot of morning coffee, and you can download the map at the trailhead wif' yo' phone. We got extra stoked when talking with Jason, a dude we met at the top of the DH run and then again at the trailhead to told us all about the fancy shit that is going on down there.

And I almost forgot the cherry on top - in a shack next to the parking lot, I found what appears to be a defunct jenkem lab. I wanted to make sure I got evidence of it, because it might help to entice our good Doctor and C-Dubbs to hasten their return-trips to MO:

It won't be long now before the State Cross Race lands here in St. Louis - and in everyone's favorite place for CX - St. Vincent Park. No doubt people will complain about it though, because that is what people do - complain about it being too hilly, too flat, too twisty, too straight, too dry, too sloppy, too bumpy, too much like a crit, too mountain-bikey, always too much getting mired in sandy-vag-pits. 'Cept for Peat, whom I witnessed wielding the Sword of Positivity this past weekend: upon arriving in a conversation he was having with someone who was complaining about that bad grass-mowing, he simply responded by saying "I think it is great - the course it great, everything about it is awesome." The more people show up to race and/or heckle, the better the atmosphere will be.


In the meantime, please view this local news story (not local to StL though, unfortunately:)



As usual, you're welcome!
-C'rot"ch 

Bootlegger's Burnin' - 2013

Fistfights.

Pork chops.

Jesus in a boat.

Slashed car tires.

Gasoline-soaked plush sheep.

Drunkenly wandering through the woods.

These are just some of the great mammaries (memories?) I have of this Missouri mountain biking institution, this year, 2013, being the 10th iteration of Burnin' at the Bluff. However, some things in life are, despite our best efforts otherwise, beyond our control. In this case, it's Federally controlled land and recreational areas.

In all the years we've maintained this ridiculous blog, one thing that we've prided ourselves on was the total avoidance to anything political, and instead, focusing on our shared love for all things cycling/80's action movies/huffing fermented sewage. So despite our government's insistence on acting like small children (and not doing their fucking jobs), there won't be any (further) commentary on the matter via this blorg. Because let's face it, we may be losing an official place to hold a bicycle race, but plenty of other people are losing much more.



So all that being said, we may be losing an official place to hold a bicycle race, but we are also GAINING an UNOFFICIAL place to hold a bicycle Non-Race. "But Crotch, you un-inspired turd-licker, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Bootlegger's Burnin' Non-Race

Where: Enough Boat Launch (just a few miles east of Hwy DD on Hwy 32)
When: 9am get your number, 10am start - on Saturday. Same day as actual Burnin' was supposed to be.
Format: TBD, but expect something like 6 or 7 laps, with minimal (if any) categories - men's/women's solo, 3-person open team. THIS IS ALL SUBJECT TO CHANGE, so be ready to learn the deets come Saturday morning.
Course: The Council Bluff Trail.
Camping: primitive, 100' from the trail. Keep fires small and to a minimum.

Do's: come and ride your bike, hang out, and also get mini-van'd
Don't's: forget to bring your own supply of toilet paper and water, shit on the road, camp in the parking lot, block the boat ramp or road, or get offended at the ridiculous bullshit that you will see this weekend

Remember, all the best things come in 10's - fingers, 1/4 mile times, the metric system, Letterman Top Ten Lists, and mountain bike races. Lest we not forget, there are a lot of familiar out-of-town jerks journeying from places far away like New York, Seattle, Prescott AZ, Denver, and more just for this event. So let's make the trip worth their while.

-C"Rot"ch Ryback

P.S. Something about having typed all that out is inspiring me to journey once again to the top of Mt. Kohler. Wish me luck.

Greetings from the PNW, MFG Seattle CX Race #1 Big Finn Hill Report

Jerks,

Mason Storm here from wonderful Washington State with a short race report from yesterdays race in the MFG Seattle CX Series. Check them out HERE.  I'm such a JERK that this season I'm working for them as a course volunteer in exchange for a comped season pass, similar to my bubba days, but on a level that is still hard to grasp. Cross out here is insane, and yesterday proved it. Race was held at Big Finn Hilll Park in Kirkland, WA. Hilly, technical, greasy, gravely, muddy, and fast! This season marks a lot of first for me as a CX racer, so not only am I racing in  a whole new state, I'm doing it on a 1x11 2013 Kona Unit 29er Rigid with hydraulic Disc Brakes, and Tubeless wheels. Stoked is all I can say after yesterdays race, disc brakes are where its at in CX. Sneak Peek below.

I've already ordered some new tubeless CX tires that I will swap out to before #2, decided to go with the Stan's Ravens 700x35, and I know I'll be able to rip with that faster/lighter set-up. A huge change also for me in my category as here in WA they have so many racers they can actually support a Clydesdale CAT, so being the HUGE JERK that I am I signed up for the big boy show. I've decided to drink moar beers as to keep the weight up throughout the season, and go for the series overall leader in the clydesdale cat this season. Trying to focus on FUN, FITNESS, & FREE racing as my mantra for my season as I got nothing to loose, except maybe a few LBs leading into the 2013-14 snowboard season.

All 16 of us were well over 200 LB lining up. Fuck, the dude that won looked like Dolph lundgren ate Carl Weathers, and Shit Jason Statham, Homeboy was SWOLL, like his ass got stung by a million bees right before the race started! Race started with a fast gravel straightaway that led into a slick off camber up hill, down hill, corner fuck fest, and I watched two guys eat it within the first minute of the race. My bike choice was proving to be the secret weapon, and I was able to ride the whole course with no issues. The course was a blast to ride, and I was having a blast with my new KONA. Looking forward to racing my MTB every weekend this Fall. I ended up playing yoyo with 2nd place until I snapped his wrist halfway through our bell lap. First race over, 2nd Place finish. Felt great on the bike, stoked for the season ahead.

GTF'ED JERKS,

M. Storm

Happy Sunday Jerks!!!

-Titty

MFXC 2013 - Now With 23% Moar Wickedness, and 13% Less Coherence!

Greetings Fellow Jerks and Jerkettes! Boy what a weekend we had here in the southern part of Missouri out in the woods. The long-anticipated MFXC was finally birthed unto this local scene. After several months of gestating in the womb of one of our brain-trusts, the storied "Senior Director of Pizza Delivery in New Pizzastan" made it happen.

After some pre-deployments were dispatched for trail clean-up, employing the "reverse landing strip" methodology of trimming, we were ready for a full ride, and with minimal weeds to deal with. To clarify, the reverse landing strip is just what you might think it is - instead of trimming both sides of the "bush" while leaving the center unkempt, this is where the central corridor is trimmed back, leaving the unkempt bush growing on either side, but far enough back so as to not encroach on the nice, bare trail for us to play on.

Prepared for distributing this time around was much schwag, such as awesome Kona mugs, tons of PBR goodies, custom batches of coffee from Middlefork Coffee Roasters in Seattle, goodies from ENO Hammocks, Velocity, The Hub Bike Shop, and oh yeah - the sweetest t-shirts this side of a death metal concert merch table. Don't forget the untold amount of free beer from PBR Dave, courtesy of one fantastic sponsor - Pabst Blue Ribbon.

modeling the shirt.

The start time was set at 9PM, from group campsite C. In typical C"Rot"ch fashion, I arrived not long before official start time - just enough time to add my tent to the shanty town/hammock district that had sprouted up on the west side of the campsite. I also found the one and only Farinella starting construction of his new wizard staff. At this point of the night, it was still more of a "wizard wand" but I knew that it would not be long before it reached it's full potential:

As launch time approached, all the non-racers started congealing at our campsite for the start. To be honest, we had hoped that there would be a few more people, but with other draws this weekend like the Show Me State Games, that fucking World Naked Bike Ride, and any number of local groups out on their fucking awesome mountain bike road trips to the western states, we were up against some formidable opponents. At least we had more beer. However, I was left to assume that all the representatives from Team Red Wheel such as Nick, Matt Stacey, Borb Jorkens, Turbo, Stoney, and all the rest were busy attending the grand opening of that Roman-style bathhouse that just opened in Jeff City. I heard that there was planning to be a celebrity appearance by Criss Angel, who was fresh off of his "Let's Put the Boys Back into Boise, ID" Tour.

Lining up with headlights on, we dispatched our non-racers into the night amidst a flurry of intestinal gases and fireworks.

This was the cue for myself, Jerkward Toscani and Mrs. Crotch and Mrs. Toscani to head deeper into the woods where we would welcome the racers descending down the hill from Hwy 32. Farinella and friends would continue even further down for further merriment. Nico took this time to engage in a lengthy nip-blasting session, despite the temperatures dipping into the low 50's: (Let me repeat that - low 50's in fucking July, in fucking Missouri)

From that station, we moved down the road, and en route came across Punchor and Jacob choo-chooing down the road, so we had to go all  Team-car on them and provide them with a mid-non-race feed-zone:

We managed to just see a few people motor through that checkpoint, and we missed the guy with the shotgun in his lap who stopped to see what all the noise was all about. So we decided to pilot the team car back up the start/finish, where even moar merriment would ensue. I feel as though I should apologize on behalf of our entire non-race party to all the other camp0rz at the CB campgrounds that night - because we kept the party train rollin' until the wee hours.

As everyone rolled into the campsite, having crushed out 28ish miles of nocturnal Ozark goodness, we let it rip:

A truly magical night!

Strove mistook a thorn bush for a rapist and attacked. Soothed only with beer held in his new awesome Kona mug.

Nice beverage sleeve!

A couple of wizards and their tools of the trade.

As the night much was discussed. Punch0r, the official sweeper, or better yet - the official "mop guy" at our Team Seagal peep show, rolled in, but we knew there were still two people left out there, having to beat off the mountain lions by themselves - Samuel Axel, and Jacob Rohter. We were asking the question, "where are they?" And the only answer we had was the same answer that the lady who tossed out this pregnancy test that Nico found the other day received:

"results inconclusive"

However, just when the alarms were getting to be at critical levels, they both rolled in, telling a tale of  going on a long vision quest of self-discovery, general disarray, and unintended wanderlust - fortunately resulting in the two of them arriving right back at the start.

Happy to be at full strength once again (despite Peat and D-Wayne having to make an early retreat,) we continued late into the night. Scooter had a few beers, and managed to outdo himself yet once again. In a state of general confusion and incoherance, he wandered into the woods, where he emerged at a horse farm. Thinking to himself "these horses look like they are out to cause trouble" he took it upon himself to sedate them with the horse tranquilizer he happened to have in his pocket, so that they wouldn't cause any more problems. Borrowing the farmer's truck and trailer, his crazy mental state at the time led him to load up those horses and take them down the road and deliver them in downtown Potosi. A handful of people drinking in the parking lot of Country Mart did not like these horses running loose, so they confronted our poor Scooter, who promptly proceeded to kick all of their asses, then vomit on their KO'd faces, all with one of his hands tied behind his back. Also, his pants were down with his wiener out. How embarrassing. Thinking that the law will be coming down on him, he realized that he had best get the hell out of town quick. But he was pretty hungry, so he hacked those horses up, started a fire, and cooked them for breakfast with some eggs. The leftovers, he mailed to Valley Meat Company so they could be packaged and exported. What a true jerk - I sure hope this story doesn't end up on StlBiking.

And what would a Team Seagal camp out ride thing be without a large supply of tubed meats?

courtesy of Travis.

That night much was discussed, from new and innovative ways to harvest jenkem, to upcoming events, but everyone was excited to hear about my new gravel racing bike:

the "Gravel Blaster"

The next day we awoke, and moving at a truly glacial pace, we ate breakfast and prepared for a lap of the Bluff, with a trip up the "stairs" to the top of Johnston Mountain, where we would then take the elevator back down. The Toscani's had a delicious breakfast, and, in a picturesque scene that looks like it would be on the cover of an L.L. Bean or Eddie Bauer catalog, decided to make that catalog photo even better by juicin' a couple of morning Stags:

On a side note, I have some big Council Bluff news. On my way to my morning constitutional, I noticed the newly constructed shitter. It was still locked, as I don't believe that everything was ready for the grand opening. But rest assured, this is sure to be a great draw to the area. I am not sure if this is simply to add capacity to the campgrounds, or to replace the older, out-dated shitter that is right next to it. I'm not sure what determines out-dated or out-moded in the world of pit-toilets, but then again, I am not in the business of primitive toilet technology. If the old shitter is to be kept around, I think that I would prefer to continue to use it instead of the newer one, as the instantaneous jenkem high I receive every time I enter it is simply hard to replicate after decade and decades of baked-in flavor. Kinda like a cast-iron skillet or wooden spoon. The flavors of past meals add the flavor of the future ones. Here they are, side-by-side:

 

We here at Team Seagal HQ, particulary myself, Doctor and C-Dubs, are eagerly looking forward to the grand opening. I am hoping they have a red-carpet event planned, with many celebrities showing up such as husband and wife Brad Poo-t and Angelina Jo-pee, Bruce Will-piss, French actor Gerard Depar-doodoo, Piss-topher Walken, Leonardo Di-Crap-reo, Dame Judy Stench, Paul Poo-man,  Peter O'Stool, Faye Bombsaway, and many more. It should be a brown-star-studded night.

Before long, we saddled up for a ride up to the top of Johnston mountain.

Ready to ride with my new jersey, courtesy of Strove

Scooter had never seen the view from atop the mountain, so we were all excited.  However, he nearly self-derailed his ascent by having a few too many morning beers causing numerous wrecks on the way to the top. We were worried he would "fall down the elevator shaft." Fortunately, he and everyone else - myself, ItsNotDelivery, Kitten Bottoms, Stoveward, and Drewby, all made it to the top, where fate would join us with none other than the Rolla Giant himself, Dan Fuhrmann, who was rectumfying/rectifying his inability to do the ride last night on account of failed headlights by completing the entire ride during the daylight. He made a trip to the top of the mountain where we were drinking summit beers, courtesy of Stoveward's commitment to lug them all up in a backpack. Nice work.

We safely negotiated the descent of the extra-loose elevator shaft, and continued to pinch off our daytime loop of the Bluff. We arrived back at the campground, where we would finally meet up with Lawman, who brought much good news from his recent OTA board meeting (translation: OTA float trip.) He also brought news of a nice little bait shop that just opened up less than 1/4 mile from the DD/32 trailhead. I made sure to stop there on the way home, and it is a *very* modest yet inviting little spot located on 32 just a few hundred feet west of DD/32, and it's a great spot to pick up bait or some snacks or non-alcoholic beverages before setting out on an excursion. Stay tuned for news of a shuttle service - but in the meantime, make sure you stop by to see what's up.

In the meantime, we continue to hope that Valley Meat Company can make progress in their efforts to bring much needed jobs to our great state. In the the meantime, please check out the newly energized Team Seagal Arizona blog - specifically the comments section.



GTMV'd
-Casey F. Ryback

UPDATE:

From the non-desk of the non-race non-director:

Huge thanks to all of those who came out and donated money to the peeps at OTA, shredded some sweet trail at night, and made it totally worthwhile to put in the time and money to get this ready.

Thanks to Titty and Drewby for helping clear trail. Thanks to Stove for clearing and marking the course with me (and carrying the beer to the bluff on sunday). Thanks to Coach, Nico, Farinella, and others for providing on-course mayhem guidance. Thanks to Lori for taking money and keeping the hooligans in line at registration. Thanks to Puncher for designing and buying those mother fuckin bad ass race t-shirts. Thanks to Tom Petty for leaving the heartbreakers at home to sweep the MFXC course with Cockpuncher. Thanks to Scooter for helping flatten out some of the bumpy spots in the trail on Sunday with his face. (If the trail looks smoother near the bridge at the connector please thank scooter).

The nicest team in mtbing swept the raffle prize podium with Maria, Peat, and Dwayne of Team Noah winning the $300 Hub Gift Certificates, ENO hammock, and Velocity Blunt SL rims respectively.

Numerous non-racers jerks will have a successful morning bowl movement thanks to bags of beans from Middle Fork Roasters. Many others will better be able to receive service while not presenting service at any establishment having a "no shoes, no shirt, no service sign" thanks to PBR and many t-shirts. Many large trees were drug from the woods late at night/early in the morning thanks to cases of PBR.

Hopefully everyone is enjoying their Kona Beer* Mugs. When all of your friends become jealous the remaining mugs are available at the Hub Bicycle Co in Webster Groves for the same $10. All money still goes to the Ozark Trail Association. After the weekend the total is hovering a little north of $300 we will donate.

And Finally the Top Ten:

1a. Peat "I probably don't need a last name anymore" Henry

1b. D-Wayne! Goscinski

3. Strove Friedman

4. Matt "I wish I knew how fast singlespeeds are sooner" Johnson

5. Scooter

6. E. "i didn't get the singlespeed memo those in front of me did" K.

7. Luke "when is gino riding at matson?" N.

7. Hunter H.

9. Maria E.

10. Dave H.

Thank you all and GTF!

-Mayor of Pizza Town

*if you aren't drinking beer right now because you are currently a roadie in training who recently appeared on the cover of the Webster Kirkwood Times most other beverages are acceptable except for zero calorie water flavoring drops. No. Never. Just no.