When you’ve been buds for a long time, not much is said over the phone. Especially when the scenario has been played before:
WS -“So, we gonna do this?”
RS - “Yeah man, it’ll be good to have some early season shots in the bag”
WS - “Yeah, yeah of course. You have locations dialed then?”
RS - “Of course!!”
WS - ”Buddy…we need to get a little rad”
RS - “Well…. what you bringing?”
WS - Pause - “A new 29er”
RS - Silence – “What...no!! I thought you wanted to get rad?”
WS - “Don’t worry, it’s capable”
RS - “Dude…”
WS - “OK just kidding, no 29”
Two weeks later, photographer Ale Di Lullo picked me up at LAX, and we pointed it south to meet up with the ex-patriot in his adopted nirvana wintering grounds: Laguna Beach, California.
Ale Di Lullo is one reason the trip came together in the first place. He’s a burgeoning photographer living in Italy. Richie and I shot with him on his first professional shoot for Marzocchi at the Lake Garda festival in 2008. Ale would now be in the States for 3 weeks shooting, and he initially sparked this So-Cal road-trip idea to kick his first week off.
Knock-knock. We banged on the door of Richie’s 2-bedroom beach bungalow, 2 blocks off the ocean: not too shabby Schley. I proceeded to unload the gear, and began assembling my bike in the parking lot out back, when all of a sudden I heard a scream over my shoulder, “Noooo, you brought the 29? Arrrgh!”
That night, wine-Richie is gluten free, so no beer-washed down the planning of our weeks shooting. Conversation then progressed/digressed, depending on perception, to the state of the bike industry, more specifically wheel sizes. We debated whether or not riders are being forced change, or is there true merit. Richie apparently is very passionate about his arguments on the former, and me a “cog in the MTB marketing wheel”. Richie, still bitter about my 29 decision.
We awoke to clouds. Not a photographer's dream start. Richie and I snuck out for a Laguna shred checking on some potential locations while Ale busied himself buying batteries and other things that photographers generally forget. That afternoon, the clouds relinquished some sun breaks, and we were off to our first location that Richie promised delivered epic shots.
“Top of the World” is a well known kickoff for some of Laguna Beach’s best riding. Trails like Telonics, Trail Mix, and many others cascade 1000ft down to the Laguna Canyon road. I remembered I had shot here years ago, also with Richie, back in the “Freeride” heyday when we were part of the Froriders. It would appear now that freeriding remains alive and well in Laguna, fueled largely by the Laguna Rads. Numerous features dot the surrounding landscape, and are obviously sessioned regularly by locals.
A smooth step-down occupied us for a while, the “warm up” Richie said for a sizeable air we’d hit up next. Incidentally, Tony the “Tiger”, Richie’s roommate, was so inspired by our daily stoke every time we came back to the house that he went up alone and sent that step-down for the first time. The result: a broken collarbone. The gap is now called “Collarbone Rock” (heal up Tony!). After exhausting the step-down, we moved to the next jump. I had this feeling that Richie was hiding something because he wasn’t being very forthcoming with info when I asked, “How big is the next one?”
I didn’t say much to Schley prior to hitting the road-gap. Bastard was definitely sandbagging me, or more specifically, my bike. Things get silent when the shooting pressure is on: setting sun, photographer in place, sketchy in-run, sizeable air. Hiking back up after a couple of roll-ins, I overhear Schley whispering to Ale, “he’s out of his comfort zone on that bike, and I’m loving it, hahaha!!!”
“I can f%$king hear you Schley,” I sneered, and then I sent it.
With a couple of nice airs over Laguna Beach in the can, we headed south the next day to ride in San Diego County, Noble Canyon and Pine Valley the destinations. Neither of us had ridden Noble, but relished its legendary single-track, and IMBA Epic status. Rather than fumbling around to find the goods, I made a call to a legend himself, So-Cal trail guru Richard Cunningham. Richard was luckily free and more than happy to guide us around the area. He also enlightened us on the history of such wheel-size debates, and their not-so-humble beginnings. Richie and I may be old Freeriders and pretend to know a little about a lot, but Cunningham, and his peers are walking MTB archives.
The next morning, we rendezvoused with Cunningham, and drove to the top of Noble Canyon. Extremely spectacular country up there at 5500 ft. To the east is a 3000 foot drop to the desert, and west is open pine forest leading into chaparral. Unfortunately the weather wasn’t co-operating, sending Ale into a little funk. Us riders didn’t care too much though, for 12 miles of singletrack, and 3000 feet of descending was on the menu.
The morning was spent shooting sweet trail as we serpentined our way down Noble. Plenty of playful trail-side features snapped Ale back into his creative groove. The trail starts with fun-flowy ripping corners swooping through pines before dropping into the rocky canyon. Richie and I traded off cheap verbal jabs as the trail conditions switched between wheel size advantages. Me, loving the chunky rocky technical big wheel chomping, and Richie lighting up the switchbacks and tighter sections. After a mile of easy climbing out of the oak-lined canyon, riders are rewarded with what I thought was the best part of the trail: 2 miles or so of roller coaster ribbon with natural hips and doubles. Pretty much perfect IMBA.
Ale lined up some angles on the more fun lower jumps as Richie and I got to work. Up to this point, I was pleasantly surprised with the 29’s performance. It had been pretty much punch-for-punch with Schley on airs and technical lines. Even that sandbagging road-gap he tried to eliminate me on. Not the slightest twist of a nipple had been necessary, when it all came crashing down on one kacked-out hip landing on that piece of perfect. All I heard from Schley was, “I guess that argument is proven”! A couple of bangs on a rock, and a whole lot of nipple twisting, and the 29 was back in the game.
The great thing about the Noble Canyon trail is that it ends in a place called Pine Valley, which is home to a sizable, human-sculpted natural jump park. I recall that this was the location of a whip-off comp a few years back, and according to a local dude, is still used hard by San Diego shedders. Here, I felt a little under gunned with the big wheels. We managed to get comfortable on some of the medium airs, but the big dogs were technical, and required something a bit more specific…like 200mm travel.
Picking Cunningham’s brain of little known So-Cal secrets to go next, he divulged a zone he had ridden only once before, and promised of fruits to our labour. The region was back up north through LA, and a little to the west off the highway headed to Vegas. We thanked Richard for his guiding prowess and MTB lore, packed up and headed north.
Rolling off the I-15 at the highway 138 junctions, we realized that Cunningham knew exactly what we were searching for. After the classic, epic single-track in Noble, we were now going to time-travel back to our freeriding roots, hike our asses up some sandstone spines, and get rad. The zone was a quasi Moab/Virgin Utah landscape with apparently many ride-able lines, even picturesque single-track wound through the area. Ale morphed into a bloodhound and ran around chasing the game.
Schley and I got a feel for the terrain on some of the smaller lines, and when the sun slid into its golden hour, Ale commanded the scene barking orders form the helm like a captain. Realizing the potential results of such orchestration, we were happy to oblige. I’m willing to say that here on these sketchy-ass spines, the 29 may have been outperforming Schley’s 26. Traction was the key factor; you made sure you didn’t slip.
Rat-racing it back to Laguna, Ale seemed pleased with the variety of shots and terrain we had encountered. We still had tomorrow available to shoot, and the weather was promising more clouds.e Richie quelled the disappointment with one sentence: “Hey c’mon, I have Laguna dialed for every condition”. That being said, the next morning found us halfway up the Laguna Canyon in a seemingly oasis of grenery; a stark difference from the start of our trip a mere 500 ft above us at the “Top of the World” five days earlier. The rad-factor was diminished, but needless to say we enjoyed the tacky dirt and getting into some good ol' mountain biking.
On the flight home the next day, I reflected on the trips highs and lows, and smiled wickedly about the heated wheel debates. After it was all said and done, I could not say whether Richie or I had more fun despite the difference of wheels. And after reviewing Ale’s shots, there is a noticeable difference upon first glance, but evidently an air is still an air and a drift still a drift. We just each got into it in our own way. I concluded that it’s really no different than people riding with a 3 x 9 or 2 x 10, 1 x 11 or 130mm or 150mm travel; you still get to your destination, and probably have as much fun regardless of implement. Bottom-line is: a road-trip will always be a road-trip, and rad will always be rad!
Wade
aledilullo.com
That said it would be rad to have a map showing trail names and where all the pics where taken on these kind of road trip stories. I guess i would leave the office right away with that info!
If your over 6ft tall I'm sure you know what I'm say n'
Happy problem to choose one :-)
that's what happens when you ride with a progressive rider like Wade, maybe give Loops a call i think he still riding alone on his 26".
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