Words by Tony Jonsson Photos by Colin Wiseman
Back in 2001, I found an old rusty Worksman on the side of the road with a “Free” sign on it. Anything that wasn’t metal was toast and all the chrome was rusted out under layers of old paint from years of use. It was a diamond in the rough that needed a little TLC. With new bearings, grease, paint, seat, tires and handlebars, I had a solid bike that became my urban-assault vehicle. But deep down I knew I could ride this beast off-road; I knew it was trail worthy. Eight years later, I would have my chance to put it to the test—to go Klunking.
To go Klunking is to revisit the roots of mountain biking. The original Klunkers of Marin County just wanted to build bikes that were strong enough to get up in the hills and enjoy the outdoors. Back in the 60s, the Morrow Dirt Club and The Larkspur Canyon gang put beach cruisers to the test in the mountains due north of the Bay Area. Behind them, came the Mill Valley and Fairfax crews, riding industrial bikes off road. These individuals—guys like Joe Breeze, Gary Fisher, Charlie Kelly and Steve Potts—pioneered modern day mountain biking—a history recounted in an award-winning 2006 documentary by Billy Savage called Klunkerz.
This movie caught the attention of Bellingham resident Kevin Hall, who started his own crew, The B’ham Balloonerz, and a race called the Gravity Experiment. Inspired by the Repack races hosted by Charlie Kelly back in the mid-70s Marin County Klunking heyday, the Gravity Experiment was a chance for local riders to get together and bomb their bikes down the Chuckanuts outside of Bellingham for little more than bragging rights and a good time. I missed the first annual event in 2009, but have done my best to make it the past three years. There, I have learned that going 40 mph on a 40-pound bike that is 40 years old requires a 40-oz. frosty to calm the nerves when you get to the bottom. With only a rear coaster brake, you have to perfect the art on slowing down enough to make the corner without locking it up, and, if all hell breaks loose, get sideways and hold on. Indeed, riding a Klunker down a mountain is like having sex without a condom: somewhat risky, but it feels so good.
