Ft. Pierce Trail and Grilled Pizza - Perfection and Perfection-in-Progress.

It was the perfect storm.  (Especially since the actual storm was back in Melbourne, and we weren't.) 

The perfect storm, the perfect trail, and back on the perfect bike.

(Perfection does not rear its lovely head too often in my world, so forgive me if I gush.  Much as I appreciated having a decent back-up bike these last few weeks, having the Superfly back was awesome.)

Oops, back to topic - gushing about the trail. 

The perfect trail!

Sorry, SWAMP and Santos. 

Sorry, Mudcutters and Malabar.   

Ft Pierce is like, WOW.

And yesterday, bright and clear and dry, was the perfect day to be there.

There is not one single inch of boredom on this trail.  It's a fast and flowing roller coaster start to finish, and it's a blast.  It will work you, but you won't even notice.  You'll be having too much fun.

My apologies.  The place makes you feel like a kid.  I just did not want to stop.  Not for rest, not for refills, and not to take pictures.  So there are only a couple photos.  You'll just have to (darn it all) go see the place for yourself, right?

This is the cleanest you will ever see a bike of mine.

Thanks, Jason.

Good work - and great cleaning! 

 

Through the gate, and down to the trailhead.

Sunny and dry, perfect conditions.

 

 

Smooooth...

This just may be the only kinda-straight spot.

 

 

Swoopy, smooth AND well decorated.

Dead Wal Mart Bike #2 in tree.

(DWMB #1 was in a bush.)

 

 

 

What's this?  Stopping between laps?

C'mon guys.  Let's go, let's go, already!

 

 

 

Popeye's sock line.

Note - dirt, not sand.

Yet another sign of an excellent trail.

 

 

 

Yes, the trail is finally legal and there's a waiver to sign.   Take the extra minute.  Join the club.  And if you're the type who loves to build, check out the trail work days.  Seems like these guys really have fun with it.  

Ft Pierce Trail
Airborne Mountain Bike Club
http://www.airbornemtb.org/ftp.html


OK, OK.  So much for the perfection part of the day. 

On home for our first attempt at grilling pizza.  (Both Alan and Gene declined invitations to join our experimental pizza party.  I know.  Hard to believe, isn't it?)

Our first grilled pizza ever.  Not so perfect.  But we anticipated that.  And bought extra dough in case of initial failure.  

Actually, it all turned out to much less tricky than we expected.  More messy.  But less tricky.

By pizza # 4, we felt we had it pretty much figured out. 

Prep everything first.

Everything.

Even if it means dirtying every pan, cookie sheet, spatula, knife, and cutting board you own.

Is it not way cool to be married to someone

who worked in a pizza shop in college?

Start with a hot grill.

Spread the dough with olive oil and lay it on. 

Trust.

It starts to puff up immediately, and it doesn't stick at all.

Close the lid on it a couple minutes.

Two spatulas for turnover.

 

 

This was crust #1.

We got braver, and made #'s 2, 3, and 4 successively thinner.

Which turned out crispier.

Which we like better.

 

 

 

I know - sauce from a jar.

And dough from Publix, too.

What can I say?  We were at the trail all afternoon.

 

 

 

Not too bad for attempt #1!

 

From this point, we scooped each pizza onto a cookie sheet and schlepped it inside to the oven to keep warm while we went on to the next one.

 

I think the biggest problem was that the only grill we have is a Coleman camping grill.  It's pretty small, and non-adjustable.  There was some charring in spots on the bottoms.  (Mostly because we wanted to delay taking it off until the cheese was brown and bubbling too, which didn't really happen.) 

But oh, that crispy crust finish! 

Next time, we agreed we'll just save ourselves the time and mess of dragging sauce and toppings and cheese, et. al., out onto the deck (in the wind and rain). 

The new plan is to simply grill the dough first.  Then we'll bring it in, top it, and finish it off in the oven. 

That might just be perfection enough.

 

 

 

Hardtail Appreciation Week(s)

"Feeling strong today, huh?" asked one of the roadies rolling up to the group gathered for the Tuesday Palm Bay ride.

That gets a chuckle from the crowd, including me.  I have no illusions that I could ever keep up with the Tuesday ride's notorious 30+ speeds.  On any bike.  And especially not on Bruiser. 

But Mother Goose has assured me that there is a B ride.  As a matter of fact, he says, he and another old mountain biking friend, Phil, are the B ride.  (I don't really know why, since they each show up on bonafide, skinny tire road bikes - with aerobars.)

So, why oh why, am I there at the Tuesday road ride on a heavy old hardtail Trek Paragon 29r named Bruiser?  Even with a B version and two good friends to carry me through, it's just silly.  I expect to be off the back as soon as the warm up mileage is over.

Let's face it.  Everyone needs at least three bikes.  A road bike, a mountain bike, and a commuter.

 

Three bikes, I have.  

 

Killer, the full suspension 29r.  

 

The Madone, all polished up for sale at Krafty's new shop (Village Cycle in Cocoa Village).  

 

And Bruiser.   Good ole Bruiser, bell and all.

Killer, the Superfly 100.

Both shocks sent out for maintenance after Croom.

 

 

For Sale

Madone 5.2.

All carbon frame, 54 cm, upgraded wheels.

And yes, actually made in Wisconsin! 

 

 

 

Bruiser at Turkey Creek.

Pressed into emergency service.

 

 

I have been riding Bruiser for a few weeks now. We are coming to an understanding. I work harder and stand up more. He doesn't bop me in the bottom quite as much.

 

And now, after weeks back in the hardtail saddle, I realize, that with a little understanding (and a lot of standing up), old Bruiser isn't such a bad ride.  He may not be the fastest fella on two wheels, or the most comfortable trail machine out there, but he's been taking me everywhere I need to go.   

 

At first, I admit, I avoided him. 

 

 

The AF base. 

Turn around point for my five mile beach run/stagger.

 

 

Seemed like a good time to begin training for the Wickham Park Marathon, 50, 100, and 200 Mile Fun Run.  

 

But let's face it, there really is no good time to start training for Wickham.  To resume training, or to continue training perhaps, but to start training...  That just always sucks.  Especially without the joy of the mountain bike to look forward to on off days.

 

I even skipped a night ride just because it was raining, and went to a Tae Kwon Do class instead.  I love TKD, but it's no night ride.

 

Love those iPhones. 

The guys made sure I knew what I was missing.

 

 

Oh jeese, woman.  Just man-up already.  Bite the bullet and dust off Bruiser.  

 

At first, I took him to the easy places, the paved places.  Tropical Trail.  The river road up to Cocoa Village. 

 

On Rockledge Drive.

 

 

Then, bored with pavement, we started out easy. Who knew that smelly, burned out Wickham park, would end up being the gateway drug back into off road addiction?

 

Do you recognize this trail?

 

 

Then we tackled Turkey Creek.  On my own a couple times, easy does it.  And once in the company of Mr. Wonderful, adding a tour of Grapefruit to the mix. 

 

 

 

Another weekend.  Still no shocks for the Superfly.  We head to the relentlessly rooty Econ.   Biggest group ever.  The Full Moon Riders.  Plus some of Popeye's roadie friends - there for the first time ever.  

 

At the start of the Two Bridge Trail.

 

Semi at WOB

 

 

Back to Turkey Creek.  This time seeking the Malabar Scrub Riders with Just Mike. 

 

Mike - who always rides a hardtail.

 

 

It's the Bob's.

Ha!  Found ya!

 

 

2 weeks after avoiding the Full Moon Ride, Bruiser took the New Moon ride like a champ. 

 

We're The Fugawi?

 

I'd like to say I did the night ride without any whining. Oh well.

 

However, without any wine was easy enough - since the post ride beers at Post Road were 2 for 1.

 

LD's, Post Rd.

 

 

Going on Week Three.  Killer's shock parts delayed.  Bruiser is called upon again. 

 

This time it's a trip to FATS.  At least FATS, the Forks Area Trail System in SC, is smooth and swoopy.  About the best place you can be if you're on your back up hardtail.

 

 

 

Big Rock Trail

This just might be the only rock at FATS.

 

 

So it didn't happen without some whining on my part.  OK, a lot of whining on my part.    (Especially during the sprint finish when I finally fell off the back of the B ride.)  

 

But it did happen. 

 

Heavy old Bruiser, wearing hand me down fat tires, and an I-Heart-My-Bike bell.  Just a plain old back up bike who turned out to be about the best, most reliable, all purpose pony anyone could ask for.  

 

Hardtail commuter, turned mountain-roadbike, turned hero.

 

Who would have thought he had it in him?  Certainly not me.