SCUMB: 12 Years of Mountain Bikes, Barbecue, and Organized Chaos



Sometimes the best kind of human connection comes out of chaos. Organized chaos… and sausages. Twelve years ago I started a mountain biking club called SCUMB. The acronym means something, but the name was actually a tribute to The SCUM Manifesto by Valerie Solanas, the extremist feminist playwright who shot Andy Warhol. I thought SCUMB should have its own manifesto, but I never got around to writing one. The name was in part an intentional finger in the eye to mainstream mountain biking culture, which I found to be too straight and normal and boring. At that point in my life, I was feeling edgy. I wanted to bring real weirdness back to mountain biking; I wanted my fellow freaks, artists, and outsiders to find each other on bicycles, to play in the woods in the moonlight, to swim naked in the rain, to fearlessly laugh in the face of danger. I also just wanted to share meals with friends in the outdoors. In that regard, SCUMB was a success.


At first it started as a post-ride BBQ in Howarth Park, a little regional park that serves as the gateway to the trails in Annadel State Park. There were few folks in the early days; it grew organically, by word of mouth. Usually I would bring sausages to grill, but occasionally we’d make potluck charcuterie boards full of cheese, meats, and veggies from local purveyors. We are fortunate to have a diverse and abundant local food system in Northern California and it brings me great joy to share our abundance within the Santa Rosa cycling community.


Jason Silverek, who was my sensei in all things bike-related, introduced me to the Kangaroo grill, a packable gas grill with a griddle top. That made SCUMB a mobile operation, which majorly changed where and when we could host events. Now we weren’t bound to a stationary charcoal grill; all of Annadel – no, all of Sonoma County – was SCUMB territory. We established a few different meeting spots throughout Annadel, so the location of each SCUMB would change, and sometimes we would hold SCUMB “off-sites” in neighboring regions.



One memorable time, I rode to the top of Mount St. Helena in pouring rain alongside my good buddies Jason Silverek and Jay DeLong with a backpack full of shawarma fixings. I had spent hours the previous day preparing our feast. Deli containers and Ziplock bags full of marinated chicken, homemade garlic yogurt sauce, fresh pickles, and hummus bounced around in my backpack as we ascended in the dark and the rain soaked through our clothes. We ended up finding a tree-covered spot, where I fired up the Kangaroo grill and quickly prepared our wraps. The flatbread turned to mush in the downpour. Our hands were frozen and numb. At some point, a guy on a dual-sport motorcycle roared up with his Australian Shepherd dog running just ahead. We thought we were about to get busted by the rangers, but it turned out to be our good friend Chris. He drank a cold beer with us in the rain and then continued on his motorcycle ride to the peak. We finished our beers and then evacuated the scene before hypothermia set in. It was the best chicken shawarma I’ve ever had.


Jeremy Sycip elevated SCUMB to a new level by building two custom SCUMB barbecue bikes. The first was a belt-driven, internally-geared mini-cargo bike with a front platform rack that carried a gas grill. The first time we used that bike, we ate together during the sunset and then rallied down a rough trail. Jeremy’s barbecue bike sounded like a tool drawer getting thrown down a flight of stairs as he piloted that thing, gas stove and all, panniers full of cooking utensils and empty beer cans, its 20” front wheel flying over massive roots. It was a wonderful cargo bike, but definitely not rated for Annadel’s rocky singletrack.


The second iteration of the Sycip SCUMBBQbike was more trail-ready, with 27.5”+ tires and a Shimano STEPS pedal assist to help carry the cutting board front rack, attached gas grill, and water-tight rear panniers that could be stuffed with ice and serve as beverage coolers. To this day, it’s still the most well-thought-out e-bike I’ve ever seen, and it completely justifies the addition of the motor. Jeremy still brings it out to the park for SCUMB sessions. He’s the best.



Everyone who’s been a part of SCUMB over the years has a quintessential SCUMB story. Scot Nicol occasionally reminds me of the time I walked across a bed of burning coals with my bare feet. I had enjoyed more than a few pints of Sierra Nevada and Russian River IPA that night. We were gathered in a gazebo set in a beautiful marsh prairie. The moment was right, so I stripped off my shoes and socks and went for it. I confidently placed foot after foot in the burning coals and crossed the searing surface. My feet were blistered for weeks afterward. But I don’t regret doing it in the slightest – how many people can say they’ve walked across fire?



Like most social groups that have been around longer than a decade, SCUMB has seen its ups and downs. Some friendships have been reinforced and others have fallen apart. Our numbers have grown, but we’ve also lost some key players. When Sensei Silverek moved away from Sonoma County, it took a while for SCUMB to recover. He had become a core member of the group, and with his absence it felt like it might be time to end things. I was pretty burned out with menu planning, meal prep, and constantly organizing impromptu parties in the woods. But Jeremy Sycip kept it going, and gradually more people came onboard. All I had to do was show up and appreciate the camaraderie. Eventually being a part of SCUMB as a participant, rather than as an organizer, was enough to reignite the spark.


Now it’s been twelve years since we started this group, and I’m ready to make it go harder than ever. Right now it feels vitally important for all of us to gather together in real life and simply enjoy the company of other human beings. Something primeval happens when we cook over a fire and share a meal in the open air as the dusk descends and the coyotes begin to howl. No matter how complicated our lives may become, there’s always time for sunsets and sausages.
SCUMB forever.

Thanks to Jeremy Sycip, Rie Sawada, Ana Pimsler, and Chris Grabill for the photos. All original artwork by me, Nicholas Haig-Arack.