Bivvy a Month - February - Coe & Orestimba with Coach and Mullins

Mullins and Coach

People ask me what dfL stands for. I tell them, "It's whatever you want it to be." dfL is a dumb bike club, and I'm really glad to be a part of it. The elder statesman of dfL is "Coach." He'll be 70 this year, and he is stronger than me on a bike, and a tough nut. He likes to go on bikepacking trips and make routes. I've known about his trips for a while, but never done one with him. He told me that every one has to include these four things; single track, bushwhacking, going where people haven't been before and poaching. A few weeks ago he invited me on this ride. It was originally a bit bigger, and three days, with more waterfalls and more people, but because of weather, or actually because of Mullins' concern about weather, he shrank it to two days, dropped the waterfalls, but kept most of the route, with a plan for two days. I made it really clear I'd be slow, and he said it was OK. Was it OK, though?

Mullins and Coach are a matched set, in some ways. They go on lots of tours together. Mullins tells me he's ridden with Coach more than anyone else over the past few years. Coach put Mullins' bikepacking (they call it "touring") bike together. Each guy has quirks, and their quirks seem to fit each other. Coach can be cranky. He teases Mullins. He is direct, strong as a bull, and just goes. Mullins has a sunnier personality, is a strong rider, likes to take breaks and stop to make adjustments. His behavior warrants teasing from Coach. They banter and bicker. It's entertaining.

I'm slow, I like to take pictures, I'm self-sufficient. I'd recently done a few overnighters on my Hudski Dualist, which is my dedicated bikepacking bike. I'd also committed to sleeping outside once a month, inspired by the Bivvy A Month idea that the Brits on Bear Bones Bikepacking have been doing for years and years. In preparation for this trip I'd made a few small gear changes, and during this trip I realized I needed to make a few more. I'll summarize some thoughts about gear at the end of this post. 

My bike, the night before, ready(?) to go

Coach had invited others, but for reasons it came down to just us three. They are the Odd Couple, I'm an extra, on one episode of their series. I like them both, and got to know them better on this trip.

Rockridge BART, 7:07AM

Early Friday, 6:40 AM I rode my bike down to Rockridge BART in Oakland, CA, got on an SF Airport train, transferred at Macarthur to a Berryessa train and joined Mullins, coming from Richmond. We were texting with Coach, and met him at Lake Merrit. There's a really neat bike in our crew, and we talked about that bike, and about this trip. We got off at Berryessa BART and started to ride bike paths south toward Henry Coe State Park.

My bike and Mullins' bike

Coach and Mullins catching up

Berryessa BART station

I got dropped, right away. Coach charges. Mullins can keep up. I couldn't. 

Coach, gone

This route had a feature I really like; no cars required. We would BART to the start, ride to the ride, climb mountains and camp, climb more mountains and then ride to BART. From Berryessa we rode a lot of bike paths, some cutty trails in a south-bound direction, roughly parallel to highway 101. I'd never ridden these roads, so far as I remember, but I recognized the place from having driven through it so many times on my way to races and rides in Monterey & Santa Cruz. It got chillier as we went south, and Mullins does not like to be cold. We stopped in at a little nature center on Coyote Creek, where he warmed up and we got water and used the rest rooms. I'm more of a keep-going kind of person, especially when I'm riding with people that are faster than me, but we decided to keep together. 

I thought about Frank Elwell, and the 1886 50-mile road race from Gilroy to Menlo Park. We were covering some of the same ground. I had plenty of time to think.

This would be my view of Mullins and Coach, over the two-day tour, if I could see them.

Coach taking a seat with nature. He's sitting on a tiny kid's chair.

Mullins warming up.

Coach telling me about his bike. There is a lot of thought, experimentation and refinement in this bike. It weighs 46lbs as shown, pretty amazing. The frame is a Bianchi scandium mtb, meant for 26" wheels. Coach has 650b's and a wide-range drivetrain, requiring an old-school friction thumb shifter to move between gears on the chainring. Everything is measured, weighed, adjusted and has been refined over 70+ tours.

We tried, but ultimately failed to make Bad Bunny puns. 

We reached Coyote Lake Harvey Bear Ranch County Park, which is between Morgan Hill and Gilroy. It was chilly, but I knew we'd be climbing and would warm up. Climb we did, gaining about 800' on steep, muddy dirt roads (the Willow Springs Trail) pocked by cow hooves and littered with manure. Our tires instantly packed with mud and gravel, and there was some pushing. Coach and Mullins both had lower gears than I did, and are better climbers; I pushed more. My Hudski has a single 34-tooth chainring and a 10-51 12-speed cassette. Mullins and Coach were both running double front chainrings, and had granny gears lower than my 34-51. Where they could pedal, I sometimes had to push. 

We gained a nice bench, had a snack, now a little less than four hours into the ride. Mullins had stopped to adjust his clothing for the temps, and joined us a bit behind. I learned that this was a theme. Per Coach, Mullins likes to "dilly dally." Per Mullins, being comfortable and sufficiently warm is very important to him. It was Mullins' fears about Sunday's rain forecast that had us compress the three-day ride into two.

Coach, climbing Willow Springs

Pausing to catch my breath, I noticed this pretty view. Everything was so green!

You can see the personalities in this photo of Mullins and Coach at the top of Willow Springs.

We looked down on Coyote Reservoir, then rode along it on the Coyote Ridge & Valley Oak trails - really nice singletrack, among oak trees. We saw coyote & deer. It was one of the prettier sections of trail. We reached pavement on Roop & Gilroy Hot Springs roads. We were able to fill water at water station here. Coach & I again went on ahead while Mullins ate a sandwich. Coach knows I like to read about local history, and told me I should read about Gilroy Hot Springs. He told me that a Japanese family ran a resort there, where people could soak in the hot springs. They were sent to an internment camp during World War II, like other Japanese-nationality people in California. Family friends ran it while the owners were interned. After WWII, business dropped off, it changed hands, then a fire wiped it out in the 1980s. Coach told me it's being restored. He recommends that we should incorporate it in a future tour. I'd like to see it. It reminds me of the Bartlett Springs fire of 1934. I'd visited that spot on a 4x4 trip, decades ago, and remembered the story about the resort - actually a tiny town - wiped out by fire, in the middle of wilderness. 

Coyote Reservoir in the distance; we'd follow the Coyote Ridge trail seen at right.

My bike at the Hunting Hollow parking lot sign

We reached the Hunting Hollow parking lot, which I recognized from my last time there, in 2009. (Before that, I hadn't ridden there since the 1990s.) We began climbing the Jim Donnelly trail, which is a really well-built trail with a nice gradient. Here is where I determined that my low gear just isn't low enough for bikepacking a place like Henry Coe state park. The trail was re-routed by mountain bikers about fifteen years ago, and it keeps a very nice, sustained gradient, and has amazing views. The wildflowers were just beginning to show off, and the sun came out after a grey, cloudy morning. 

Jim Donnelly trail

Alas, poor cow

Mullins had stayed behind to adjust clothes, and maybe eat some more food. Coach was out of sight pretty quickly, except for a moment in the middle where he'd stopped. At the top of the climb, near Willson Peak there's a really handsome oak tree, and a bench. We snacked there and took pictures, while we waited for Mullins.

If you zoom in, you can just make out Mullins in his blue dfL jacket.

Blue dicks, no, really

Looking northwest from the top of Jim Donnelly trail    

Mullins, "Take my picture." We took that trail toward the left, Spike Jones Spring trail.

We were at the top of a climb, but not done climbing. Coach pointed out that it's either up or down at Henry Coe, but the descents were good on a bike. I'd agree. 

The plantnet app on my phone says this is jeffrey shootingstar. I saw it throughout the two days. It's pretty.

On Spike Jones Creek trail, looking north I think, with a pretty oak tree

We climbed Spike Jones Springs trail, which is nice, but a bit steeper than Jim Donnelly, then got on Steer Ridge Road, where we continued to gain and lose altitude, then we started descending Serpentine trail. Coach and Mullins both rode bikes that were ten, maybe even twenty years old; more upright angles, quick releases, a steel Soulcraft 29er for Mullins, a scandium Bianchi 26er (converted to 650b) for Coach. Both were running Schwalbe Thunder Burt tires, which look like pinner, no-tread cyclocross tires to me, but Coach explained that they were the king for low rolling resistance, and tough enough. I wish I'd known to swap tires, as I was running Maxxis 2.4" Rekons. But my Hudski Dualist is new, and while it's a rigid bike - no suspension, same for Coach and Mullins - it features a pretty slack front-end. Coach and Mullins warned me that this trail was steep and sketchy. I am that guy that thinks, "OK, so let me get to the front, then." Hubris. I had a blast on Serpentine. It was my kind of fun, the first bit of a rush I felt so far. It was steep, had a rut down its midsection and the turns told me it was built by hikers. It brought us to Grizzly Gulch trail, then to Wagon Road. 

Coach, pointing at things

We stayed on Wagon Road for quite a while; climbing and descending as the light got late, and we went further into the interior of Henry Coe State Park than I'd ever been. Coach and Mullins were both out of sight, in front of and behind me, but I was following Coach's track on my Coros Dura GPS head unit, and didn't make any wrong turns. We followed Wagon Road to Live Oak Springs Road. I'd just regrouped with Coach when I followed him on an abrupt, uphill left turn, which brought us to Live Oak Springs, a recently refurbished spring where Coach fiddled with some valves, and we filled and filtered from the downhill pipe outflow, and from the main tank. It was getting chilly, the sun was getting low and I was beat. Coach and Mullins had been debating whether to wild-camp on Pacheco Falls trail, or to camp at Pacheco Camp. Coach wanted to set up camp on Pacheco Falls, where he'd never camped, then ride down to the overlook above Pacheco Falls. I was with him on the set-up-camp part, but my body was very much telling me to avoid side quests involving more physical exertion. 

Coach at Live Oak Springs

Mullins hadn't showed up, after at least fifteen minutes of waiting, we were beginning to wonder what happened to him. I checked my phone for messages, and was astounded to see a bar or two of 5G, but otherwise no messages from Mullins. We were just talking about backtracking to find him when we heard a yell from below; Mullins had missed the turn for the springs. We shouted "SPRINGS!" at him, and he arrived, we filtered, agreed to wild camp and dropped down the Pacheco Falls Trail to a nice little flat spot under some oaks, below Wood Duck Pond. 

My kitchen, improved with this little titanium windscreen Coach brought. I'm gonna get one from GGG. The cheeseburger casserole from Luxefly was delicious. This was the "two-person" meal. Ha! Not even. I also brought the one-person version, as an extra, but glad it wasn't my only dinner option.

Mullins using his Opinel saw to process firewood. I ended up just breaking this limb into pieces.

yum

delightful

We set up camp, made dinner, had a little fire and I kept my trap shut about side quests involving pushing bikes back up the hill. In my mind, I wanted to see the falls, but my body was wrecked. Coach and Mullins were in much better shape than me, both their fitness, but also current state. I was capable of making camp, dinner, a fire and getting into bed. I didn't take a picture of it, but I used my new Durston X-Dome 1+ tent. It's so nice. 

oak tree, fire glow

Mullins at rest, stargazing and opining

Coach, busy, mid-fidget

Coach said, "You probably don't want to go to the overlook, do you." I assented. We had a good conversation around the fire, decided to turn in, then Mullins asked "What time is it?" It was 7:30PM. So we put a bit more wood on the fire and managed to stay up until 8:30PM.

Listen to the frogs. The pond was an active frog community, and they had a lot to say.

I cheated, took two Advil PMs, went right to sleep, but woke sometime well before dawn and tossed side to side until my alarm went off at 6 AM.

dawn, and a skinny moon

I really like the Luxefly dehydrated meals. This Denver Scramble was excellent. Next time I'll remember to bring some Tapatio hot sauce packets.

My bike, packed and ready to go

At our camp, ready to roll out

Mullins wanted a morning fire, so we got one going for him, had breakfast, then doused, scattered, mixed the ashes with dirt and buried it entire, broke camp and were rolling by 7:45 AM. Not too bad, Coach wanted 7:30 AM. It was a steep climb back up Pacheco Falls Trail to Live Oak Springs Road.

Looking back down Live Oak Springs Trail as Coach climbs it

Looking back down at Wood Duck Pond, and below it, the area of our camp

Distant valleys in fog

We took Coit Road to Pacheco Camp. Here, Mullins told me about how Joaquin Murietta used to bring stolen horses here, and about how it was one of the last native American rancherias where they "held out." My ears perked up, hearing this, because I'm really interested in California history. It made me think about Boyhood Days in California, one of my favorite books, written by Ygnacio Villegas, about his boyhood days in California not far from where we were, at the Pacheco Adobe and other locations. Villegas wrote:

"One of the greatest surprises of my life was had around 1851. I had been hearing much from the travelers concerning one Joaquín Murrieta who, it was said, cut people's hearts out, robbed and mistreated them.

For several years past a Mexican came to the ranch of Señor Pacheco at San Felipe at different intervals, sometimes there would be a large band and oftentimes he would come alone. He always had the finest and fleetest horses, beautiful silver-mounted saddles and trappings. I had often conversed with him and he was a quiet, affable fellow, well liked by everybody. I always knew that there was something mysterious about him. At the time of my awakening this Mexican had hardly been gone over five hours when a posse came up and asked if we had seen Joaquín Murrieta or any of his band. Then it dawned on me who the quiet Mexican was. Of course Señor Pacheco had seen no sign of the man and the posse went on. It seems he had killed some prominent American in San Jose.

To the present generation with all the stories they have heard about Murrieta, this will seem strange that a man of Señor Pacheco's standing would harbor a man so infamous. However, almost every large rancho in the country would assist Murrieta or any of his gang. They had to or be wiped out. He and his gang had a rendezvous near Pacheco Pass where they could watch the road and yet be safe from molestation. We would never inform on him, because even if the officers would have captured or killed Murrieta or most of his gang there were always enough left that would have descended on our home so many miles from any other habitation, and killed every one of us. Also these robber bands had secret spies on every ranch who would have informed the thieves had anything been done against them, or any information been given to the officers of the law. To be under any obligation to such people is to say the least very unsatisfactory and often placed us in a very undesirable position. However, Murrieta played fair with Señor Pacheco and my father and never killed or robbed in our neighborhood. It no doubt happened that many of the Anglo-Saxon travelers who had camped at our place never reached their destination, but it was something that we were powerless to avert. In later years when young [Tiburcio] Vasquez started out on his career of crime, it was the assistance that he received from the ranchers over the state that kept him out of the clutches of the law so long.

Murrieta had a nephew, Claudio, whom we also knew quite well and who was finally killed at San Luis Obispo by a posse of Santa Barbara officers, following some robbery or murder.

From what I could learn, Murrieta was born in Sonora, Mexico, and came to California with one of the caravans from that section soon after the discovery of gold. He mined and gambled for a living. Everything went well until his wife was outraged by some Americans and no attention was paid to the act as she was only a Mexican. [There are theories that this woman was the famous Josefa, or "Juanita" of Downieville legend. - MF] This infuriated Murrieta and he swore vengeance and no doubt started robbing in a small way after this incident. However, the hair that broke the camel's back was when he went to visit a brother or some relative at one of the mining camps and on returning borrowed his brother's horse. It seems that the horse had been stolen and he passed the owner of the horse, who recognized it. Murrieta was arrested and horsewhipped, and the brother hanged. From then on nothing stopped him in his criminal career. His awful vengeance was aimed primarily at Americans and he killed and robbed wantonly.

Also, the anti-foreign agitation that started just as soon as foreigners came to the mines had much to do with men like Murrieta. The feeling at the mines was very bitter against anyone coming from south of the Rio Grande or, in other words, who spoke Spanish. They were run out of most of the mining camps, mistreated and oftentimes killed by self-appointed vigilance committees who took it upon themselves to see that no foreigner worked. Under these conditions many Mexicans became desperate and stole and killed to get money and food. I am not upholding this lawless element but I merely want to show that they were not always to blame when they started on their criminal careers.

The word "coyote" is a very good expression for Murrieta. Very few people knew him outside the ranchos. He would go right into a town and talk with the Americans about Murietta and how he should be taken out and hanged. He could look as innocent as a babe and no one ever dreamed he was the much sought after brigand. In fact it was a considerable period before anyone knew who was committing the robberies and murders beyond that it was a Mexican and his band. Naturally he grew bolder as he escaped the law and made frequent forays in the mining country, oftentimes making huge hauls of gold.

As there were several bands of robbers stealing horses and robbing over California at this time, Murrieta got credit for many crimes that he did not commit.

Murrieta and "Three Fingered Jack" Garcia were finally killed near Lake Tulare by Captain Harry Love, a deputy sheriff from Los Angeles, who was given a commission by the state to wipe out the robbers. He came on the robbers in camp in July, 1853, and after a thrilling fight most of the thieves were killed or captured.

Many Californians and Mexicans always claim that Murrieta was not killed and that the head that was on exhibition in San Francisco in alcohol came off of the body of somebody else. The hand with the three fingers was no doubt that of Garcia, as it was on exhibition at the same time. I always thought, and so did my father, that Murrieta was killed. However, be that as it may, nothing more was ever heard of him after the fight, so a good job was done the state by getting rid of him."

Yeah, that caught my imagination. I'll have to read more about native Americans and Pacheco Camp.

We filled our water bottles at Pacheco Camp. There's a sign stating that the water should be filtered, but Coach and Mullins averred it was fine to drink as-is, so I trusted them and didn't filter. So far, so good, one day later. :) We checked out the showers, and Mullins even found the little Visine bottle Coach used for his Dr. Bronner's soap, from the last time he was there. Listen to the audio:

Extreme Picnic Association 2024

We climbed Coait Road, crossing Pacheco Ridge Road, climbing again twice until we reached County Line Road. Here we descended Orestimba Creek Road to the Orestimba Corral. Back to Joaquin Murrieta, I think this might have been on La Vereda del Monte. Coach describes our location:

Here we got on the absolutely delightful Orestimba Creek Trail, at Mullins' suggestion, before rejoining the Orestimba Creek Road. We met two ranchers in pickup trucks and had a good conversation. Well, I listened. I was the Big Dummy, and Coach did all the talking. They discussed our route, and agreed that there was some hard country ahead of us. This low country, both a road and a creekbed was hard going. We crossed the creek multiple times, and my chain started to audibly complain. 

After some time, we turned left and began climbing Red Creek Road up through "the airstrip," a tilted, tree-less plane where I guess you could land an aircraft.

After the airstrip, we reached a high point, then began a descent. 

On this descent, I again assumed I could handle the terrain. Then I was airborne, bike cattywampus, bouncing above some unexpected ruts and oscillating once left, once right, before I got it settled and continued in control, grateful that I'd kept it upright. On the next climb Mullins passed me and asked, "Did you just almost crash?" "Yes." I lucked out of that one. We then entered some very difficult terrain, still on Red Creek road. I have few photos, here, because I was dead tired, and it was hard going. Red Creek road is also a creek bed. Rain had turned it soft, and cattle had churned it up. We crossed and re-crossed the creek, soaking shoes and chains. It was half hike-a-bike, with downed trees, loose rocks, brush and the only visible track one made by cows. Coach, "I love this!"

The transition from creek bed to bulldozer road on the Red Creek road

We eventually reached a bulldozer-built road and began the climb out of the drainage. It was still Red Creek road, but now it was a road. I was starting to really feel the combined riding, hard push through that valley, and my low gear just wasn't low enough. The sun was out and shining, I was sweating, and was quickly down to half a (large, 34 ounce) bottle. From this point on I was pretty cracked, as you'll see by the sparse remaining photos.

My chain was very noisy. I added a bit of Squirt lube on the climb, had a snack and some water, took some photos.

Plantnet says this is wavy-leaf paintbrush

I have to go up there.

Elevation profile in front of me. It was often > 20%.

Mullins waited for me, and asked me how I was doing. I gave him a sideways thumb. I continued to grind up the hill, finally reaching Coach and Mullins. Coach asked how I was doing and I said I'd need some water, soon. I should have filtered down in the creek bed, but I didn't know what was coming. Coach gave me some of his water, I gave my chain more lube, and ate another handful of trail mix. We eventually gained County Line Road again, returning to it north of where we'd left it. We had to climb a few gates, and rolled by the Ashrama. Up high, this was pretty country, wide open, oaks and occasionally cows, and the road was in great shape but for frequent puddles. 

Coach pointing at things

Mullins called this "the Serengeti." It's a pretty view. This was looking down from Red Creek road, near County Line road. I took this photo at 12:44 PM. I took exactly three more photos before ending the ride at 5:26 PM, at Dublin BART station. That tells you how cracked I was.

County Line Road became Upper San Antonio Road, which was still a dirt road, before ending at San Antonio Valley Road. Here we were on asphalt again. We watched a long line of Mazda Miatas tear by on some weekend rally, before heading north on San Antonio Valley Road. This road should have been nice and mellow, but I was cracked. Coach wanted to "pull" me; get me in his draft so that I could make better time. I know he had his heart in the right place, but I was not moving at a speed where wind resistance made much difference. Coach and Mullins were hopeful of reaching the Rainbow Junction restaurant before it closed, and we did. I was a zombie when we arrived. There were moto guys in motorcycle leathers and roadies in lycra, us, and a few couples who'd driven up for lunch. We realized we had arrived in the midst of a San Francisco Randonneurs brevet, the Del Puerto Canyon 200km. I was hollow. I got in line a few bikers behind Coach and Mullins. Coach got me a cheeseburger, fries and at my request, two cokes. I owed him $30. 

Coach and Mullins were talking about what was next. I couldn't think about anything. I was cold, and had both my capilene hoodie and shell on, both hoods on, wet socks and body chilling in the outside air. I was so empty, I was vaguely thinking of asking Lauren for a pickup somewhere, but there was no cell coverage there. We finished up, rolled out, and I began the next two climbs on the pavement. 

The Rainbow Junction Farm is at the intersection of San Antonio Valley and Del Puerto Canyon Roads. Going north from the junction it is Mines Road. After lunch I had two climbs that felt bigger than they probably are. On the second one I started cramping on the inside of my left thigh. "Oh fuck," I said to myself. This felt like a game-over cramp. The fries had plenty of salt on them, but I'd omitted any drink mix, and had been drinking just water for the last two days. I dropped my power and shifted to an easier gear, and just spun up the remaining climb. There I found Coach and Mullins. Coach had mentioned he had some salt pills. I asked him for two, took them, then began the long, undulating descent of Mines Road. Those pills, and that lunch saved me. Thanks, Coach. Now I know why they call you that. At the bottom, Mullins gave me a powdered carb/electrolytes packet, which I put into my remaining water bottle. 

I rode with Mullins for a bit, and we talked about bikes and kids. We were passed by plenty of randonneurs, (bike riders who like to ride long distances in club-promoted events) including the famous Henry Wildeberry and Ms. Cools. As they passed, we hailed them and they hailed us. That was neat. 

At the base of Mines Road in Livermore we took a series of bike paths toward Dublin BART station, Coach leading. His pace rose, I hung on, then things get a bit chaotic before we finally reached the BART station. Mullins had looked at the schedule for the trains, and there was one arriving imminently. We went up the steps as the train pulled up. We boarded, along with a few of the randonneurs, and thus ended our two day bikepack of Coe & Orestimba. Changing trains and goodbyes followed. I texted Lauren, asking for a pickup, and to order some burritos for delivery, and she did, and we lived happily ever after.

This was the last picture I took, after changing trains at Bay Fair BART station; the sunset was amazing. I was dead tired.

This was my third overnighter in three months. I'm three for three in my personal Bivvy A Month, or Tent A Month campaign. 

Gear and thoughts

I added a Rawland Rando front rack. It isn't doing much at the moment, except for anchoring the base of my Swift Zeitgeist front bag. I've ordered a wide, tall Goldback bag from Jay at Bags by Bird, and that bag will likely sit on the rack, and attach to the bars. I'm looking forward to it! The volume of the Zeitgeist was fine for this trip, but a little more will be even more fine, or just as fine, hopefully without encouraging me to bring too much stuff. I will move my Sinewave Beacon 2 light from the handlebar to the front of the rack. I've got it on the 5/8" spreader of the Monẽ Light Bar that my friend Ben gave me, using a Mostly Forever clamp. While I really like that setup, anything extra in the bag, or on top of it under the stretchy cord thing blocks the light. The Goldback I ordered will have the 'expandable longflap,' and should I use that, the light would be obscured. The Rando rack has a mount for it, which will put it out front. I'll probably re-do the middle-section wiring that goes under the top tube to use thinner gauge, so I can use more of the Shimano Di2 electric wire cover adhesive strips, rather than zip ties like I'm currently doing. I've been using these gold-plated connectors, so that I can abstract the location of the lights with three segments of wire, from the Schmidt SON 28 hub via coax to the light, to the first set of connectors, to the wiring under the top tube and to the rear rack, and then to the Sinewave Taillight on the rear of the rear Mica Rat Tail rack. I did notice I'd partially pulled apart the rear connectors, after I got home, probably from picking the bike up and lifting it over gates and fences. 

The Hudski Dualist came with a 34-tooth chainring, which is good for an all-arounder bike, and has been fine for weekend overnighters, but Coe is either up or down, and 20% or greater grades are common. I think I'll get a 30-tooth Cinch chainring for the Race Face crank, and maybe keep a chain / chainring pair so that I can swap them if I want lower or higher gearing.

It also came with a 160 rear rotor. That's a head-scratcher for me. I'm big, and with gear I do need a bigger rear rotor. Heck, the front 180 might be too small. I'll swap the rear for a 180 and get a +10mm adapter and see how it does. I had some brake squawk on descents. Brakes are Shimano SLX M7100. They're fine, otherwise.

Coach and Mullins both had pinner tires with almost no tread, the Schwalbe Thunder Burt in I think 650b x 2.1 and 29 x 2.2, if I remember right. My Maxxis Rekon 29 x 2.4 tires were great off-road, but I definitely felt a penalty for much of the ride. I might consider swapping in something like the Thunder Burt, or the Panaracer Gravel King SK 700 x 50 tires I used for the Oregon Outback, if and when I go on another Coach tour, but what's more significant is my fitness and speed. After four ablations for afib, I am just slower. I can't use the age card, because Coach has thirteen years on me! I'm just slow, and overweight, and not fit. I don't train, and haven't trained for anything since the early 2010s, when I raced masters cyclocross. But I think I might make a focus on gaining enough fitness and losing enough weight to do another Coach tour. I'd need more than faster tires to keep up.

Another thing I'd do differently is bring some sort of drink powder. At my pleasure pace, over my pleasure distances, just water suffices. And an occasional mid-ride beer. But for the kind of all-day, hard efforts that these two put in, I'd need to augment my water like they did; with electrolytes, carbs, and I think protein for recovery at the end of the day. That also means keeping bottles clean; not easy. Even just electrolyte tablets like Nuun would be better than plain water. 

I broke the little mini toothbrush I've been using since 2012, luckily after brushing my teeth. I used a single Toothpaste Tablets by Huppy instead of toothpaste. Can recommend. I'll get a new toothbrush for these trips, and probably one of these covers for it.

D'oh!

I brought my down puffy pants and jacket from Mountain Hardwear, but not something to sit on. I've been worried about putting a hole in the pants, and sure enough, I did just that; put a hole in the pants, sitting on a rock. Both Mullins and Coach had sections of foam from an old Thermarest pad that they used for sit pads. I will bring a sit pad from now on, or my REI Flexlite Air Chair.  I have a roll of clear Tenacious Tape, I'll patch the pants with that.

This was the first time I've used my new Durston X-Dome 1+, with short carbon poles and a ground sheet. Coach asked how much it weighs. It's 1055 grams / 2.32 pounds. It's quick to set up, I can sit up in it, it's roomy inside and the vestibule is also roomy. The "1+" means you could fit another person inside, and it's true. It would be snug, but possible. I had some dew on the fly in the morning, but no condensation inside. It was expensive, but I'm very happy with it. I started with the tent on the rear rack and the poles in the frame bag, and finished with them both on the rear rack. The stuff sacks got muddy. I think I'd add a sit pad back there.

The 34 ounce Soma water bottle plus a one-liter Nalgene bottle was sufficient, but I did miss a crucial filtering opportunity on the morning of day 2. There was plenty of water and filtering opportunities. I used my Katadyn Befree water filter. The Soma bottle fits perfectly in my XL frame behind the custom Rockgeist frame bag. I use King titanium bottle cages. I had Rockgeist add a little mesh pocket for stakes or trowels at the back, near the water bottle, and it is perfect for the Bogler trowel. Happy I brought the Holy Hiker Bidet along with a little, flexible CNOC 500ml water flask I've dedicated to it. All clean makes for a better riding day. I have been experimenting with wool boxers instead of chamois shorts, and while I was comfortable for most of the weekend, I did find their limit toward the end of day two. I was chafed. I suppose I could have put some chamois cream on, with the wool boxers, should have in fact. I had a regular water bottle under the downtube. It's a pee bottle, so I don't have to get out of my bag/tent in the middle of the night to pee. (I'm 57. If you're male and in your fifties, you may know what I'm talking about.)

I really liked the Luxefly dehydrated meals, this time the two-serving Cheeseburger Casserole for dinner and the Denver Scramble for breakfast. I carried salami and cheese, some Trader Joes bars and a bag of trail mix. I came home with a few bars, a half bag of trail mix, one package of salami & cheese and one unused, single-serving Cheeseburger Casserole. If the Rainbow Junction had been closed, I could have made a lunch. I'll probably figure out a way to carry Skratch Labs drink powder, or just Nuun tablets if I do another Coach tour. One thing I forgot that I really regretted was some dehydrated bone broth for camp at night. I first learned about this from a guy named Jake on the Colorado Trail, and I've made it an evening tradition ever since. It's good; full of electrolytes and protein and some fat, tastes good, makes me feel cozy and makes me drink more water. Carrying salt tablets isn't a bad idea, either.

The SQ Lab Innerbarends and 710 large grips kept my hands happy, no numbness, and the inner bar ends were great for the road sections. The Coros Dura GPS was great, no complaints, and navigation of Coach's route was easy.

Clothes; Patagonia Capilene Daily hoodie, Patagonia Houdini shell, Borealis wool boxers, Club Ride shorts, wool Sockguy socks, Hand Up gloves Five Ten shoes for flat pedals. Mountain Hardwear Ghost Whisperer down pants and jackets for camp, and a Patagonia wool beanie. Brought spare wool boxers and socks, didn't use them, finished with wet feet from Orestimba Creek. Paul hankie.

I didn't think to weigh my bike after I'd packed it. I should have. Hefting it, and the other two bikes, it felt in between Coach's 46 pound bike and Mullins' 62 pound bike. Mullins likes to have extra clothes and food.