Biking in Richmond, VA

This weekend I went to Richmond, VA, for a conference. I had to give a paper, so it wasn't just a bike trip, but it was the biking that I looked forward to.

My original plan was to load the Bike Friday AND its trailer hardware into the suitcase and ride from the airport to the hotel (which looked like it was doable, about nine miles). But I didn't have time to practice loading the suitcase, and as I was doing it at midnight the night before, I couldn't figure out how to get the trailer wheels to fit. So I gave up.

As it turns out, it was pouring rain and getting dark when I arrived, so riding in wouldn't have been a good option then. But returning to the airport? Ach. It would have been perfect. I rode the route on Saturday. Easy. It would have saved me the $35 cab fare, more than paying for one checked bag fee.

But the riding in Richmond was nice. I went for two short rides on the south side of the James River (on US Bicycle Route 1), which was lovely: winding roads, beautiful views of the river and the houses overlooking the river, no traffic.

On Saturday, I went 43 miles, into the flatlands to the southeast. I visited a view battlefield sites, and made a big loop (down Osborne Turnpike, out Kingland Rd, then Long Bridge Rd, returning on Charles City Rd, dropping down at the airport to Darbytown Rd.

On Sunday, I went west, out Carey Rd, intending to ride on River Rd, on the north side of the river, but I accidentally found myself crossing the river on Huguenot Rd (a miserable stretch of riding). Once on the south side, I jumped onto USBR 1 and rode along the river to Old Gun Rd (and then a little more). Back all the way on USBR 1. Absolutely beautiful. Some of the nicest biking of the year.

Again, the Bike Friday was a dream. Checked through as a regular suitcase with nary a raised eyebrow. Very fun to ride. Well worth the $50 bag check fees.

New World Tourist, Progress Report

I have had the Bike Friday NWT for four warm months, and I'm happy to say that it is filling its niche perfectly. I have put nearly 1000 miles on it; I have taken it on a flying trip in its suitcase; I have taken it on a driving trip folded up in the trunk; I have toured with it (twice); and I have found other spontaneous uses for it.

By the shores of Torch Lake.VO front bag; Banjo Bros seat bag.

First the tours. In June, I loaded up the trailer, hooked it up to the NWT, and set off on an overnight to Barnes Park, on the north end of Torch Lake. I rode 85 miles out and 75 miles back. I really wanted to test it out, to see if I could imagine flying off somewhere, unpacking the bike, setting up the trailer, and going on tour.

I'm happy to report that I can imagine it. That first two-day trip was fine. Towing the trailer is a little odd, but then so is riding with full panniers. Mostly, it was no big deal. I quickly stopped noticing it was there.

Then in July I rode the NWT/trailer combo down to Ludington (90 miles), where I met Jon coming across on the ferry. Over the next three days, he and I rode on the diagonal up to Cheboygan (that's in Michigan), where we caught the ferry to Bois Blanc Island to stay with Jon's in-laws. Again, the trailer was fine. It slowed me down a little, but not that much. It certainly didn't feel a lot harder to ride with the trailer. Now, the trailer was not stuffed full (but then, I like to tour light), so it easily could have weighed twice as much. But it's possible to overpack panniers, too.

One nice benefit of having the trailer is that it's racoon-, squirrel-, and gull-proof, so we could store food in it. Not bear-proof, by any means, but we weren't camping around bears on this trip. (In fact, a bear would tear it absolutely to shreds. Must remember not to leave food in it when in bear country.)

So I can safely say that the trailer works great. Rolls smoothly, handles well even at high speed (I had it up to 30 mph with nary a twitch), and it's really convenient at the camp site.

The portability and rideability of the NWT make it perfect for spontaneous bring-alongs. When I go somewhere overnight and don't want to rig up the car rack, but I do want to bring my bike, I can just throw it in the back of the car. Today, Cindy was flying back from out east, and I thought it would be fun to meet her at the airport, where she had left her car. So I hopped on my NWT and rode the 33 miles, up hills and down (averaging 15 mph, which isn't bad for a pleasure ride), found her car, and popped the bike in. She was surprised to see me.

The fact that the bike is so much fun to ride (admittedly less fun than my Rambouillet, but then, that's the perfect bike), means that I don't hesitate to ride it like a real bike. I don't feel like I'm compromising by riding it. I have been surprised at how stable it is: despite the slightly twitchy steering, it tracks perfectly while being ridden no-handed, even at 20+ mph. And because the measurements were according to my specifications, it is, in many ways, my most comfortable bike over long hauls. The handlebars are exactly where I like them.

All in all, I'm very pleased. Highly recommended.

Fenders

Fenders are a good thing. No doubt about it. I have them on all my bikes. HOWEVER, I must add a caveat.

While we were riding the GAP Trail, Cindy and I both picked up sticks between our fenders and tires. In both cases, the sticks got caught enough to pop the quick-release mechanism on the fender spars. (I had added QRs to Cindy's fenders before this trip.) In Cindy's case, the stick stayed wedged, and it actually caused the fender to fold  until it was completely doubled under. Because it's plastic reinforced with metal, it didn't break, and it was bend-backable. However, I didn't remount it. What if it had happened on the 24-mile downhill while we were going 15 mph? I left the fender off the rest of the trip. When I remount it, I'm going to be sure there is at least 1/2" (maybe more) between the fender and the tire.

We have picked up sticks this way both trips. It seems to happen only on the soft surface, perhaps because the tires are stickier.

Good Roads Movement

In researching the early national roads (Dixie Highway, Lincoln Road, etc), I was delighted to discover that bicyclists were largely responsible for the first significant improvements made to intercity roads in the U.S., in what is called the "Good Roads Movement." Immediately before automobiles made their entry onto the transportation stage at the end of the 19th century, bicycles were the modern wheeled wonders, and bicyclists wanted better roads. We bicyclists are history makers.

Great Allegheny Passage Trail, May 9-12, 2011

Let me just get this out of the way at the beginning: The Great Allegheny Passage bike trail is a national treasure. Although I have not ridden every long-distance bike trail in the country, I feel confident in proclaiming the GAP trail, quite simply, the best. I can imagine none better. The Erie Canalway Trail was interesting, but it is in a different league from the GAP. Other longish trails are nice, I'm sure, both beautiful and well maintained, but none can possible compare to the 135 gorgeous miles of the GAP.

Anyway, on with the trip. More praise at the end.

The intrepid reader (all one of you) will recall that last summer my wife of 25 years (as of day two of that trip) and I rode from Buffalo to Seneca Falls, mostly by way of the Erie Canalway Trail. We rode the longest continuous off-road segment between Lockport and Newark (85 miles), then on- and off-road segments at the beginning and end.

The intrepid reader will recall that we had fun, despite stiff headwinds, March-like temperatures, and, of course, rain. But we were ready for a better experience. That trip and this trip were done in-transit to picking our son up at college in Philadelphia. Both years, we finished our own teaching, frantically graded tests and papers, assigned grades, and leapt in the car to drive far enough to make it possible to ride on Monday-Thursday, before picking the son up on Friday.

This year, the logical trail to try was the Great Allegheny Passage, which runs continuously from Cumberland, MD, to just south of Pittsburgh (soon to be all the way to Pittsburgh). A former rail route, the GAP was reputed to be well-maintained, very scenic, with ample places to stay and dine along the route. Because the Pittsburgh segment is not quite done, we chose to make the northern terminus in or near McKeesport.

The original plan was to end there. In fact, here is the complete original plan. (Do not pay particularly close attention to this, because it changed at the last minute.)

Turn in grades on Saturday, jump in the car on the Saturday evening, drive to, oh, say, Cleveland. Sunday, drive to McKeesport (remember: just south of Pittsburgh), pick up a U-Haul truck. Park the car in McKeesport (where? That was something that needed figuring out), load the bikes into the U-Haul, drive to Cumberland, turn in the U-Haul, spend Sunday night in Cumberland, and begin riding north on Monday. First night, Meyersdale, second night, Ohiopyle, third night Perryopolis, reunite with the car on Thursday. Luckily, that plan did not come to pass. Why luckily? That first day would have been a problem. Stay tuned for the reason.

Instead, here's what we really did: Turn grades in on Saturday, take a bunch of deep breaths, start thinking about packing, load the car on Sunday, read the papers, have a leisurely lunch, leave for Pittsburgh Sunday afternoon. We even had dinner with our son Sam in Ohio on the way. We stayed in a nice Hyatt Place hotel near the Pittsburgh Airport.

And here's where the plan changed dramatically. Rather than leave our car, rent a truck, drive to Maryland and bike back, we reversed it. We left our car and biked south, having reserved a truck in Maryland to drive back to our car.

And where did we leave our car? In reading blogs and discussion groups, it became clear that the best place to leave the car was in the Boston (that's PA) trailhead lot, a few miles south of McKeesport. Free parking, patrolled by police. In fact, when I contacted the Allegheny Trail Alliance (the official umbrella organization of the GAP), the nice woman gave me an email address of someone who would let the police know that the Michigan van was legit.

So that's what we did. No exhausting driving back and forth to position cars prior to the trip. Just park and go.

So there we were, on the trail again after exactly one year. For the gear-heads out there (well, considering the odd gear, I don't suppose real gear-heads would care), but here's how we were outfitted:

Same bikes: 27-year-old Trek 620 with, basically, no original parts other than the cranks and the rear brakes (700C wheels outfitted with 38mm Kenda Qwik Roller tires; full fenders, front and rear racks with Wald baskets, Rivendell shop sacks in each basket, clamp-on handlebar bag, trekking handlebars mounted on a high stem + extension), and a cheap Trek women's hybrid, which, although costing less than $400, has been a completely adequate bike. Cindy's bike had 37 mm tires and a rear rack with a large rack trunk.

Both bikes had full fenders. Interestingly, our only mechanical problems were with the fenders. On the first day, both Cindy's and my front fenders were missing a nut, causing rubbing and annoyance. Nothing that zip ties couldn't fix. But there were more serious fender problems, which I will discuss in a separate post. The official Riv-ish love of fenders has an important caveat.

One last gear comment: The Rivendell shop sacks in baskets are, ahem, a unique way of carrying gear, but it works beautifully. The baskets and racks are completely rigid, so there's little swaying, even though the gear is up high, and the Riv sacks can simply be popped out of the basket and carried in to the inn or B and B at the end of the day. A large and a small Shop Sack (plus Cindy's rack trunk) carried all our clothes for four days.

Getting ready to go at the Boston trailhead

Anyway. We set off from the Boston trailhead at 11:00 or so, riding south along the west bank of the Youghiogheny River, which was to be our companion for nearly three days.  The weather was cool but not cold. I quickly switched to shorts and my normal summer long-sleeved shirt.

(About the weather: Although we had a nice time last year in the windy cold drizzle, we didn't really want to do it again. It has been a cold rainy spring, so we were watching the weather carefully the week before we were scheduled to ride. In fact, we didn't book any reservations until the Friday before we left, when we were sure that the weather was going to cooperate. As if to make up for last year, the weather this time was perfect: Four days of sunny skies and temperatures in the 70s. The last day was very warm at lower elevations, but we were at the high point of the trail, so it was delightfully cool. Despite a rainy spring, the trail surface was dry and firm, with only occasional ruts left from previous muddy rides; clearly, the trail handles rain well.)

Between Boston and Perryopolis

This initial stage of the trail was nice, if not spectacular. The river is very pleasant, wide and slow, lined with trees. We passed through scattered small communities (really, just groups of houses), crossed small roads now and then, and felt like we weren't far from civilization. The trail was in perfect condition: hard-packed stone dust, wide enough for two to ride abreast, with little center vegetation. We passed volunteers who were spraying vegetation along the trail to prevent encroachment; the trail is obviously well cared-for.

Rarely was the trail this primitive.

For the whole trip the CSX railroad tracks ran parallel to the trail on the opposite side of the river. Freight trains rumbled by at regular intervals. 

On this sunny Monday in mid-May, we saw quite a few people using the trail, particularly at the beginning, within 10 miles of the greater Pittsburgh area. Beyond 10 miles, the traffic thinned quite a lot. We didn't see any touring bikers at all this day. In general, the traffic on the trail seems to be quite light this time of year. Overall, we only saw a handful of through-riders going either direction. In the summer and fall, I think trail use is much heavier.

The first of many benches on which we rested.

We were only going 25 miles this first day, so there was no hurry. We stopped fairly often and sat on benches that appeared at regular intervals along the trail. (This proved to be true for the whole trail: There were always benches to sit on, with even an occasional covered picnic table.) The trail was basically flat, with little elevation gain. Although the trail gains nearly 1600 feet between Pittsburgh and its highest point south of Meyersdale, most of that happens in the seventy miles after Connellsville.)

I must say, I was lukewarm about the trail at this point. I had a headache, which the scenery and trail were not enough to make me forget. It was not much different from riding along the Erie Canal.

We were headed for Perryopolis, which is located just off the trail. It doesn't even show on the map as being a trail community. To get there, we had to push our bikes up a very steep hill and ride about a half mile. What we found was a tidy little town of small, well-maintained houses, a small downtown with a "wagon-wheel" layout (designed, the visitor is told many times, by George Washington, who once owned all the land on the which the town stands), and a healthy looking school complex filled with healthy looking students. The town doesn't offer much; we had to walk way down state route 51 to CoGo's gas station to buy a state map, but it seems like a nice little town.

The Inn at Lenora's in Perryopolis

Just off the the rim of the wagon wheel is Lenora's restaurant, which also has an inn attached, called, logically enough, The Inn at Lenora's, a name that doesn't make much sense if you don't know what Lenora's is. This was to be our favorite lodging of the three. A true inn, with nicely appointed rooms and a very good attached restaurant, this was quite a lovely place to stay. Lenora herself is the chef and hostess. We had a nice chat with her as we ate our tasty breakfast seated at the bar.

Day Two, Perryopolis to Ohiopyle, 31 miles

The day started with a lovely downhill run back to the river along a road different from the one we came in on. We almost got to go through a little tunnel until we discovered that the tunnel led to a bridge over the river—and, as a result, over the trail. Instead, we detoured around the small ridge through which the tunnel runs, descending down to the river's edge, where we found the trail. (Actually, I made a quick trip through the tunnel just to have a peek.)

The tunnel on the road from Perryopolis

The scenery improved dramatically on this second day. The first twelve miles to Connellsville were nice (much like the previous 25 miles had been). But starting in Connellsville, the trail follows the Youghiogheny up into Chestnut Ridge and the mountains proper. The river narrows, speeds up, and gets noisy. The river valley has steeper sides with frequent rock faces with small waterfalls tumbling down them.

Between Perryopolis and Connellsville.

Man towing a raft on a trailer north of Connellsville

The trail goes along city streets in Connellsville.

Connellsville is the last major city until Meyersdale, 58 miles away. We shopped at a nice grocery store right next to the trail, on the north side of town. The trail goes right through town, along city streets, before emerging into the suddenly beautiful Yough valley south of town. There was some evidence of soft trail conditions in the past (primarily tire and water flow ruts), but by the time we got there, the trail was hard and dry.

South of Connellsville, the start of truly spectacular scenery

We were only going 36 miles this day, so we again were in no hurry. We made it a point to stop often and enjoy the sights and sounds of the river rushing through its rocky bed.

We met a group of school children wearing shirts that read "Biking 34 Miles for Cystic Fibrosis." Obviously, they were Connellsville children biking the 17 miles to and from Ohiopyle. There were a lot of them. I was glad they weren't going our direction. It would have taken a while to pass them.

Looking upstream toward Ohiopyle

The rapids got bigger and bigger, and the country felt more and more rugged as we approached Ohiopyle. The approach to town from the north is announced by a pair of spectacular bridges over the Youghiogheny, which offer wonderful views up and down the river gorge. It's disorienting to ride into town from the north, because you pass over not one but two bridges, and when you get back alongside the river in town, it seems to be flowing in the wrong direction. This is because the first bridge puts you onto a peninsula formed by a large loop in the river. The second bridge puts you back on the side you started on (technically the west bank), but the river is to your west, and it has momentary doubled back on itself to flow south-ish.

The first Ohiopyle bridge

View from the first bridge

We arrived before the official check-in time to our guesthouse, so we hung out in the park next to the river, enjoying the rapids and waterfall in the warm spring sun. Ohiopyle is not much. Just a few shabby businesses (including a single open restaurant, of sorts) and a few shabby houses with a few residents, most of whom seemed to be kayak bums (the river equivalent of ski bums). This seemed grim to me. I can understand being a ski bum or a windsurf or surf bum. Conditions are constantly changing, making the experience of skiing, surfing, or windsurfing in the same place different every time. Buy kayaking? It's always the same river. Why would you want to do it over and over? Sure, it looks fun. But over and over? The same stretch of river? Give me skiing or windsurfing.

Our lodging this night was the M******* Guest House, which shall go unnamed. It was, basically, a flop house, an old family home in which the owners (not living there any more) were renting out rooms. The front door is always unlocked, so we just let ourselves in. Each bedroom had its own lock and key. We only caught a brief glimpse of our hostess as she dropped off slices of cake-like strawberry bread for breakfast. Otherwise, there was a refrigerator full of bottles of expired orange juice, and a container of stale Maxwell House coffee next to a coffee maker for our breakfasting pleasure. There were also some frozen blueberry muffins. It was hot upstairs, there were no screens in the windows (most of which didn't open anyway), and the toilet broke. Oh, and I spotted a cockroach scurrying under the baseboard. It wasn't as bad as it sounds (and Cindy wasn't as critical as I was), but it was only a place to sleep, nothing more. We were glad we didn't need to share it (and its two bathrooms, one of which was attached to the kitchen) with anyone else.

The area around Ohiopyle is lovely. We took a long hike around the peninsula and then around the rapids. It's easy to see why tourists flock there in summer.

Day Three: Ohiopyle to Rockwood, 31 miles.

Early morning between Ohiopyle and Confluence

We weren't tempted to hang around in Ohiopyle. We also weren't exactly stuffed from our strawberry-ish bread/cake and expired orange juice. So we ate just enough to prevent us from passing out on the trail, and set off for Confluence, 12 miles away, were we were pretty sure we could find an open restaurant for breakfast.

Stopping by the Youghiogheny south of Ohiopyle.

It was yet another lovely day. Sunny, rapidly warming by the time we left at 8:45. The trail continued along the Youghiogheny as far as Confluence, and the scenery continued to be lovely (although the trail leaves the river now and then, making this stretch not quite as perfect as the stretch between Connellsville and Ohiopyle.)

The confluence of the Youghiogheny and Cassellman Rivers

In Confluence (so-named because two rivers and a creek converge at one point), we did indeed find an open restaurant serving breakfast, Sister's Restaurant. (It may have been the only open restaurant in town, which made choosing it easy.) We had an acceptable breakfast, made better when another through-biker on a Rivendell Atlantis pulled up and came in. I think it was the first Rivendell I've seen (other than mine) east of the Mississippi. I didn't rush over and gave him a big hug like a long-lost brother, but I did admire his bike as we were leaving.

Between Confluence and Rockwood

Below Confluence (actually, east from Confluence), we left the Yough and started following the Cassellman River, also beautiful. Less water than the Yough, but nearly as beautiful. The trail stayed mostly right by the river the whole way to Rockwood (17 miles).

The trail continued its steady but slight climb, which started in Connellsville. Although we knew were going up, it only slowed us (or tired us) a tiny amount. This steady climbing over two days was going to pay off big on our final day. On this stretch we were passed by a south-bound biker for the first and only time.

Bridge over Cassellman River

 

One of the regularly spaced covered picnic tables

A closed tunnel that the trail goes around

We arrived in Rockwood at 2:00. (We easily could have gone another 10-15 miles, but this was where the lodging was.) We had milkshakes at the ice cream store in the old mill (and opera house), then found our lodging for the night, The Gingerbread House, just south of town, right next to the trail. We were the only lodgers there, too, but at least it didn't feel like we were living in a ghost house. In fact, it was lovely. Very pleasant room, nice house, even a place to stash our bikes. We met the B&B keeper, arranged for breakfast in the morning, and relaxed for a while.

Gingerbread House B&B in Rockwood

At 5:00 or so, we walked into town to the Rock City Cafe, basically a bar serving food. But our Berk's Burgers (conglomerates of everything under the sun) were tasty, and my draft beer cost a buck. Sleep that night with a window open, listening to a rushing creek.

Day Four, Rockwood to Cumberland (44 miles)
This was payoff day. We would climb another 500 feet in 20 miles, and then plunge 1600 feet in 24 miles. We needed to get to Cumberland by 3:00 to get our U-Haul. We were hoping that we hadn't lost the reservation, since U-Haul had had no way to call us to confirm. (Although the Rockwood visitor's center at the trailhead has a cell-phone signal booster, it only works for Verizon and ATT, not T-Mobile. Grr. So we had our fingers crossed that we wouldn't be stranded in Cumberland.

Salisbury Viaduct, north of Meyersdale

The first twelve miles took us to Meyersdale, the other real city between McKeesport and Cumberland, still climbing, following the Casselman River. After Meyersdale, the trail was in the best condition of all. Wide, hard, fresh crushed stone in many spots. We climbed another eight miles, passing over one of two spectacular viaducts, and over lovely old bridges, until we reached the apex of our journey, the eastern "continental divide" between the Chesapeake and Gulf of Mexico watersheds.

South of Meyersdale

The highest point in the trail

As we were planning, it seemed reasonable to make this the longest day of the trip. We knew that it would end with 24 miles of downhill, but we didn't really know how much down it would be. I mean, I sort of knew, and I read the altitude tables that showed that we would lose the altitude we had gained over three days in 24 miles, but I didn't dare think that it would be ALL downhill, as in glide for 24 miles.

But that's what it was. If it had been paved, we literally could have glided for 24 miles, except for one tiny uphill bump near Frostburg.

We felt giddy. We flew along at 15 mph with virtually no effort, just pedaling to give our legs something to do.

The descent begins

This graphic says it all. Notice Mckeesport (right) and Cumberland (left)

On the way we went through three fun tunnels, including the 3294' Great Savage Tunnel. The trail was perfect. Two miles outside of Cumberland it turned into asphalt for the final sprint.

Big Savage Tunnel, 3294'

Benches and view south of Big Savage

Welcome to MD

The trail runs alongside the scenic railway tracks going into Cumberland.

Arriving in Cumberland

The end of the trip.

We arrived in Cumberland at 2:00. We found our way to the U-haul pickup point (they nearly gave our truck away when they couldn't get hold of us), loaded our bikes in, and roared off for McKeesport, 119 miles away. We dropped the truck off at a transmission shop right next to the trail, unloaded our bikes, and rode the final two miles back to our car, which was where we had left it, no tickets, no dead battery. We loaded our bikes in and drove off. The trip was a success.

What I learned on this trip:
1. Warm sunshine beats cold rain and stiff headwinds.
2. Travel north to south on the GAP unless you want to start with a 24-mile climb. (This wouldn't be impossible. In fact it would be like riding into a 15 mph or so headwind for 24 miles—we've all done it. But it was more fun going down.)
3. Don't use close-fitting fenders. (We both had our fenders nearly torn off when they picked up sticks. See my separate post.)
4. Make reservations. This time of year, it's easy to find lodging. In summer or fall, not so much.
5. Don't try to do the GAP in two days. Take time to putz and enjoy the view. Sit on the benches. Look at the water. Watch the trains go by. Go for a hike in Ohiopyle. We wanted to see Kentuck Knob (Frank Lloyd Wright house not far from Falling Water), but we couldn't figure out a way to get there that didn't involve biking up the steep hill out of the river valley on a busy road.
6. Don't plan on cell phone service. I never had any beyond Connellsville (using T-Mobile, at least). Two of our inns had wi-fi internet. The scary place didn't.
7. Ride the GAP trail. Everyone who can ride a bike should do it.

Studded Tires, Final Post of the Winter

I hope it is safe to say that I am done riding the slush mobile this winter. If so, what's the verdict on the studded tires?

I am convinced they help . . . some, although the Innova ones I bought are useless because the studs are "high carbon steel" rather than carbide, which is something completely different (harder). By the end of the winter the rear studs were ground down smooth, probably more slippery than no studs at all. Next winter I'll invest in some good carbide stud tires.

And did they prevent falls? I'd like to say yes, they prevented 23 falls, but how can I know that? What I do know is that I fell once this winter with the studs. I didn't fall last winter without studs. Hm. I do think the studs help, as long as I continue to ride defensively. (I fell because I hit an ice rut; there was nothing for the studs to grab onto.)

Bike Friday New World Tourist, more

I have now ridden the NWT several hundred miles, and I have enjoyed it. Despite the whippiness of the handlebars, it is really fun to ride. Very comfortable (perfectly set up for my preferred riding position), it rides like a road bike, albeit a very lively one. It tracks nicely, no problem at high speeds. (I've gotten it up to 37 mph with nary a shimmy, even with a handlebar bag.) The gearing (triple front, 8 sp. rear) is good, erring, if anything, on the easy side, which is OK. The easy gear is absurdly easy. Fine. The hardest gear won't allow me to pedal at 30 mph, but so what? What's my hurry?

The 1.5", 100 psi tires roll nicely, and are well suited both to road riding and bike path riding.

Folding and transport are as easy as advertised. During our Arizona trip, there was no problem checking it as luggage in its suitcase, although the suitcase developed a crack in one corner. (I have patched it with epoxy, but I suspect I'll need to reinforce it with glass cloth/epoxy.) Each day, I rode 20 miles before breakfast then did a quick fold and popped the bike in the trunk of the rental car for the day.

Only two comments during my week of riding: From a newspaper seller on a corner in Tucson: "Doesn't it roll slower with the small wheels?" And from three teenagers in Tucson as I rode by: "What the fuck?"

Other details:
Drop bars (quite wide, split at the stem to allow for disassembly when transporting), bar-end shifters, Shimano Deore hubs, Nashbar fat bear trap pedals (really nice--wide platform, grippy, cheap; not stylish, but very nice to ride), Tektro linear-pull brakes with interrupter levers in addition to the normal levers (all Tektro). Brooks B.17 saddle, but with a memory foam cover (more about that later, in case anyone is interested in my butt boils, and who wouldn't be?)

Novatec Dyno-Hub

I didn't have a good reason for this other than boredom and the desire to tinker; my Princeton Tec headlamp and blinky work very well—really, the headlamp works better than any light I've ever fixed to the handlebars.

Nonetheless, I had the itch. My touring/commuting Trek has lights (B&M Lumotec Oval halogen headlight) and a B&M sidewall generator. The halogen headlight is nice (but the beam pattern is blotchy bright rather than uniform), but the sidewall generator only works when it's dry. When the tire gets wet, the generator slips. One solution is to put on a wire roller, but who wants to be tinkering with the generator every time it rains? (The wire roller would chew up the sidewall if left on for long.)

So I broke down and bought the Novatec generator hub from Velo Orange for $35. Dirt cheap, and probably almost worth the very little I paid. But I had a spare rim, tire (a nice Schwalbe Marathon that I haven't been able to use on my defective Velocity Synergy rim) and tube lying around. I bought cheap spokes from Niagara, and built up the wheel. (That's always fun.) So for $55 I got a generator wheel.

And how does it work? Actually, the rolling part is surprisingly good. Everyone moans and groans about hubs that aren't Schmidts, how the rolling resistance will ruin your life, but quite frankly, although I can tell the difference when I switch the light on and off, mostly I would never know it's there. The bike rolls fast, I don't feel like I'm working any harder, and why should a little resistance bother me? It's like the difference between a 3 mph headwindwind and a 3.5 mph headwind. Sure, there's a difference, but not much of one.

The big problem with the Novatec hub is its efficiency. It's not very. It really doesn't put out enough juice to power the halogen headlight at full brightness. The sidewall generator puts out much more power.

I hope the solution is to swap in an LED headlight (I ordered a cheap one from Peter White for $23), which requires much less power to hit its stride. We'll see.

Even with the new headlight, my investment isn't too big. I will then have a bottle generator and light that I could put on the slush mobile.

But I like the idea of having my main workhorse bike have reliable lights all the time, even when I want to jump on it and go to the store at 3 am for some MD 20/20.

Update: Installed the DLumotec Oval. It does reach full intensity with the Novatec hub, but full intensity isn't particularly intense. But that's not the dynamo's fault. It's probably about as intense as the halogen light (different beam color and pattern, of course), but I will continue to use my EOS headlamp, which is dramatically brighter, in addition. The DLumotec will be good as an emergency light and when I don't want to fiddle with the strap-on headlamp; and the always on taillight will be good to have.

Bike Friday New World Tourist

It had been a while since I bought a new bike. Years, in fact. Perhaps four years. Buying pressure builds up. Built up. I finally gave in.

So at the end of January my new Bike Friday New World Tourist arrived in its suitcase. Perfect timing: a new bike in the middle of a snowy winter. But I got 20% off by buying it in the middle of winter, which meant that I was able to get the custom-built NWT for the price of a stock model.

Here's my thinking (and how I justified it to my wife): We have started traveling more, now that kids are off at college. There have been times on trips when I was dying to go for a little bike ride (one time in Breckenridge comes specifically to mind, when I nearly cried every day to see all the beautiful biking going unbiked.), and a bike rental just doesn't cut it. Not even possible much of the time.

A bike in a suitcase would be nice. This is what Bike Fridays are known for: decently rideable bikes that fit in a checkable suitcase, which converts to a usable trailer.

As a perhaps dreamier dream, I would like to ride across the country. But my wife seems to think she'd miss me if I took two months to do it, so I might try to do it in installments. But she doesn't want me taking more than a week at a time. (It's nice to be missed.) That means five days of riding each summer. At 60 miles a day, that would take 12 years. But at 100 miles a day, I could do it in 8 years. Doable.

I'd fly to my destination with my bike in its suitcase/trailer. Unpack, rig up, and ride to the next airport, 500 miles away. Unrig, pack up, fly home. Alternatively, it could be a Tour de Amtrak, perhaps following the route of the Empire Builder from Seattle to Chicago, and then the Lake Shore Limited to NYC.

Jon is not interested in this sort of transcontinental-by-installment trip, so I'd do it by myself. Cindy could meet me in the nice mountainy places.

Anyway, I have been riding the NWT in the basement on rollers. It feels pretty good. I took it out for its maiden road voyage this week during a February thaw. Quite nice, although the steering is a bit weird with the thin "head tube." There's quite a lot of flex. It doesn't ruin the ride, but it is odd. But the fit, being custom, is perfect. Nice high handlebars exactly the right distance from the saddle.

More info, pictures, and reviews later.

February 2011

I don't mind riding in the snow, but I also won't mind not riding in the snow. It's February, winter can end any time.

We have had a pretty constant snow cover since December. The sidewalks have been snow and/or ice covered that whole time. And it's been pretty chilly, with morning temperatures often around 10˚.

We had a major storm this week, which dumped 12" of snow. I lucked out when the university closed, so I didn't need to try to ride through it while it was still coming down. But the sidewalks still aren't plowed, even two days later, so I have been riding in Grand River Avenue, the major four-lane commuting artery. It's OK at 6:00 am. Not so OK other times. Yesterday I just walked my bike through the deep snow on the sidewalk.

But here's a nice mid-winter tip: Staying warm when the temperatures are in the single digits has not been a problem for most of me; I just layer, cover every inch of skin, wear goggles and thick socks. But my hands have still been getting painfully cold. As an experiment, I put a pair of plastic bags over my mittens yesterday, and VOILA! warm hands. It may be funny looking, but at 6:00 AM who sees it?