After I finish writing this I’ll have to do my best to forget that Portland exists so I can muster the motivation to make the best of things back here in Boston. It is difficult to make comparisons between home and a place like Portland that I go to with my worries left behind and nothing to do but enjoy myself but it is undeniable that something special is going on in the shadow of that massive volcano. Not that things are bad here, I’ve got my little shop in the basement of my funeral home, there are a couple of other builders in the area that I can call on to shoot the shit with about the craft, I’ve got pretty decent MTB trails a 10 minute ride from home, and the rolling New England terrain is scenic and alright for riding road but every time I go to Portland I am blown away by the quality and scale of the riding, the great times I have with the people, and the total immersion in a bike only life style that I experience there.
4 days was definitely not enough time but me and #13, my trustee cross bike, managed to squeeze in quite a bit, unfortunately I missed all of the Naked bike rides going on for PedalPalooza by a day. After sleeping off the all nighter I pulled to finish off the Deceptively Big Bike and boxing #13 for the flight I was ready to ride, and ride I did. By the way, did I ever mention how much I love my cyclocross bike and exploring on it, in one week, on one bike, I rode ridiculously steep road climbs, dirt roads, single track, a crit, and kicked it across town half drunk or with a coffee in hand and it handled everything with aplomb (except for getting shelled after going off the front in the crit, I blame myself more than the 1 x 9 drivetrain though).
Highlights of the week’s riding exploits included poaching some of the sweetest illegal inner city single track anywhere on Wildwood in Forest Park, doing the first ever track stand on a MetroFeits cargo bike, hearing the distinctive whir of being in a tightly packed road race for the first time in 5 years, and getting out on an “Epic” for me but a mere lunchtime jaunt for them on a group ride with my old friend Jeremy Dunn and the meticulously shaven and embrocated guys and gals from Rapha. I’m not ready to jump on the leg shaving bandwagon for fear of ingrowns and nicks and with my facial hair as testament to my aversion to razors but I have to admit that those guys may be onto something if their lunchtime loop, pacelining the flats and going all out up one of the hardest climbs I’ve done is any indication.
I really wish I had some pictures of any of this to share with whoever it is I imagine might be reading, it might be time to just get a dang camera.
M. Budd
