Mmmmmmmm, Munson!

24 hours of pattering rain, followed by a cool, sunny, breezy, 55 degree morning. That’s perfect surf conditions at Munson Hills. Bushy and I grabbed our boards and charged down the beach into the surf, where we spent an hour (or less) catching swell after swell of packed down pine needle sets, peeling off the Earth like ripping paper.

Catching Munson under these conditions is to know the sweetest, smoothest, ride in town.

The weekend had a festive air due to my brother, “Junior” turning 30. His cake was decorated with a cap and gown, a holy bible, and two wedding rings with the slogan, “THE FUTURE IS NOW”. Good fun, let me tell you, good fun.

I have to give a shout out to Mr. Tim Evans, who spotted us off the Live Oak Connector trail on Friday, with the Jamis upside down and in in distress. It was just turning dark and my rear derailer was shoved backwards through my wheel like a dislocated knee. Mr. Evans eagle-eyed us through the brush, turned back, hiked down the trail in his khakis and power tie, and offered to load up the damaged bike and haul me out of there. He had a bike rack and everything. Fortunately, Bushy and I were able to Frankenrig the thing into working for another 3 miles. Still, the cycling brotherhood is strong, and I thank Mr. Evans for being his brother’s keeper.

I’ve got nothing else for you this morning, in fact, this is a good time for me to take requests, suggestions, criticism, or whatever towards the improvement of the BRC.

And we all know a direct request for a response is a guarantee of silence around here.



14 Responses to Mmmmmmmm, Munson!

  1. mi amigo juancho, hola. what kind of suggestions could you possibly want — your writing rocks and you could make a good story out of reading a magazine on the shitter.
    one question…being that you are frequently surrounded by what i would consider two very different but nonetheless fascinating topics — do you have to just write about biking. why not back porch stories, hell you could just literally transcribe for that…and your work man, write about that…in that fun and sarcastic way. i personally, would love to read about that. i aint got nothing against your bike stories…or even surfing stories…but you see and hear some crazy shit boy. tell us ’bout it.

    hasta la victoria siempre….che

  2. by the way…i seem to be etching out a vision….i like writing about balkan-ness, when i write about it, i see how incredibly different and fooked up we are. god bless us, or is that save us?

  3. Let’s get this straight-

    Juancho has no “job” to write about, and the back porch is a live show only. You can catch it live, or not at all.

  4. what r u talking about, no ‘job’ to write about? live it is then…i guess you know why no other suggestions or criticisms have come your way. sushing seems to work better. mums the word

  5. One of the coolest things about Munson, besides the beauty of a smooth, fast trail in a longleaf pine forest, is those fox squirrels.

    For those who haven’t seen one, they’re giant squirrels with huge, bushy tails and amazing leaping ability that makes it seem like they can fly. They’re spectacular, and come in lots of color variations, and there seem to be a lot of them at Munson. SO many, in fact, that I’d be willing to bet more than one cyclist or hiker has collided with one when in action. One of my dogs chased one my way the other day and it came close to taking my head off as it whizzed by.

    Hey Juancho, do you have to keep the word verification function going? Haven’t the spammers given up and gone home by now?

  6. during the revolution, we ate many fox squirrels. they made a great sacrifice for the cause and we are grateful.

    ps. they go great with honey mustard

  7. I would like to echo Che’s sentiments. Some of us aren’t in a position to view the backporch stuff live. I miss it and would love to hear more of it.

  8. I agree with Dr. Detroit & Che. I know it’s been a while since I last posted, but I’m still reading faithfully. Dr. Detroit & I sure do miss you all in Tallytown and the script from a backporch session of dart-throwing, banty-roostering, and good ol’ southern conversation would warm our chilly bones up here in Motown.

  9. Back porch wisdom is fine; just leave out the recipes. Knowing Juancho, I’m sure that’s all he’ll need to fire up the cookbook for his next entry. (Fox squirrel stew? If none available, substitute possum).

    Sorry to be slaving at the Jiffy Monday instead of riding Munson’s tasty waves. The road’s good for inducing a Zen trance, but nothing beats Munson the day after a rain.
    And the Dakar’s starting to feel neglected.

  10. Gotcha- y’all want more about the bike-duly noted.

    These romanticized notions of the back porch are memories of days gone by. It’s just me out there most of the time, and Louis L’Amour.

    Sensitive neighbors, D&D, & hermitism have all changed the nature of the no holds barred back porch hootenanny.

    Still, I’ll see what I can do.