Take Me to the River!

Just about the only thing saving my sanity during the awful heatwave we are having in Vienna, is the splendid and beautiful Danube. The Danube River and the Danube Canal run through the length of the city, and the bicycle paths along them are extremely useful for travel from one neighborhood to another. The streets of Vienna may be choking with exhaust fumes and the asphalt may be melting from the heat, but the cycle paths by the river are leafy and breezy. And they can take you from the center of town to the serene countryside in as little as 30 minutes!

A couple of days ago, Anna (from Cycling is Good for You) and I escaped Vienna for a trip to the country, swapping bicycles while we were at it. But I will have to postpone writing about that, because I am off to a conference in Romania (which, incidentally, is accessible via the very Danube bicycle path that runs through Vienna). I enjoy knowing that I can get on the river path around the corner from my house, and just keep going for days until I reach either the Black Forest in Germany, or the Black Sea in Romania. And this is the same bike path on which I commute to work! Magical.

Read More

Happy Colours, Rainy Touring

I don't have much leeway in choosing when to go on long rides, so lately I've been doing my "tour training rides" in the rain. The first time getting caught in the rain was an accident: the forecast said no rain, but it lied - and 13 miles from home the downpour began, "baptising" my Sam Hillborne and teaching me a thing or two about how to make a rainy tour comfortable. Since then I have not really been resisting rain, but enjoying the empty roads and the fresh air it brings.

My old "lobsterman yellow" waterproof windbreaker. If you are horrified by the neon, I will explain that I see touring in the rain as different from transportation cycling. The latter is a relatively short, urban ride for me on an upright bicycle, and I wear my regular clothing. If it is raining, I wear my trenchcoat and that keeps me dry. I turn on my lights and that keeps me visible. For long-distance rides, I feel that this is not enough - because I cycle through rural areas where my bike and I blend into the landscape much more than in the city. When it is raining, I am practically invisible to cars traveling at high speeds, and in the daytime lights are not always sufficient. So I feel safer wearing brightly coloured clothing in this context.

Having observed the visibility of other cyclists, I would say that bright yellow and red look especially striking against the green-gray backdrop of woodsy and countryside areas. Other popular colours - like purple, turquoise, pink and green - not as much, even if they are neon.

My lobsterman windbreaker is falling apart from old age, so I am looking for a new rain jacket that is specifically designed for long-distance cycling: long in the back and form-fitting around the torso to prevent billowing. And I'd like it to be red. Haven't had any luck so far, and most of the ones I've tried in bike stores seemed ill-fitting. But I will keep looking and welcome any suggestions.

Read More

Rural Cycling: Fantasy vs Reality

Though fate has been such that I've spent most of my life in cities and suburbs, I have always been drawn to rural areas. When I first started working after grad school, I finally got my wish and lived in the rural North for two years - but for logistical reasons this could not last, and we subsequently moved to Boston. Still, I continue to dream of long country roads, of creaky farm houses surrounded by unruly gardens, of moody seascapes with not a housing development in sight, and of miles of dense forest stretching as far as the eye can see. This is probably what drives my interest in touring, and I use my bike to get out of the city every chance I get.

On Memorial Day we rode through the hilly country roads of Lexington, Lincoln and Concord. It is so nice there, that my rural fantasies flared up again big-time. Oh to wake up in my farmhouse (modestly sized, white clapboard, mansard roof), get the bike out of the barn, and cycle 20+ miles along a pastoral landscape to the nearest town on errands... I get overwhelmed just thinking about it!

But how realistic is cycling for transportation in a rural area? According to the Co-Habitant, my dreams will be crushed by harsh reality if I actually get what I want. He reminds me how far away everything is from everything else. He reminds me that in Northern New England winter can last from mid-November till April and in many areas it is impossible to get around without an all-wheel drive motor vehicle. He reminds me that cars do not uphold the speed limit on those picturesque winding rural roads, and points out that narrow road + blind turns + trucks speeding along at 60mph = bad news for cyclists. Plus, when it gets dark in the countryside, it gets really dark - pitch black! Will I be able to deal with that?

I agree with all of these points if I stop to think about it. Yet, I continue to depict myself as a rural cyclist in my mental picture of the "ideal future". Is it pure fantasy? Will I be longing for the bike lanes and the urban landscape of Boston when living in my farm house in the middle of nowhere? I do wish there were more websites out there that focused on rural cycling, so that I could form a better idea of its practical aspects. The cows refused to share their honest opinion.

Read More

Bicycles in the Field

While the Co-Habitant and I have separate dayjobs, we also work together as an artist team. The artwork we make is hard to summarise, but, among other things, it involves photography - usually in far-off, remote locations. The distance to the locations, the remoteness, the amount of photo equipment and props we use, and the need to be on location at a specific time so as to get the right light, make driving the most suitable means of transport to the sites. However, we now have at least two photo-shoots planned that are close to Boston, and the distances to these locations (13-15 miles from home) are reasonably cyclable. Prior to doing the actual photo shoot, we normally take a reconnaissance trip to the location - to take test shots, to get a feel for the light, and to try out background compositions. These trips don't require much equipment, and so we decided to try to do this on our bikes.

It took over an hour to arrive at the photo-shoot location on our roadbikes. While we have cycled that distance many times before, it has always been in a recreational context, never for work. Here are some notes as to how this was different:

It was difficult to focus on creative thoughts with my leg muscles working overtime (hills) in the summer heat. Instead, my focus is mostly on the physical process of cycling and on monitoring traffic conditions.

Also, I realised that when we cycle together we tend to talk about cycling-related matters - a habit that proved difficult to break! When we drive to photo-shoot locations, we use the trip as an opportunity to have in-depth conversations about our work. We did not succeed in doing this while cycling, as the topic of conversation kept shifting to bikes - that is, when it was possible to talk at all.

Upon arriving on location, even after a rest, it was difficult to focus on work. We were in a forest, dissected by foot-paths covered in gnarled tree roots and pine cones. The Co-Habitant got excited at the opportunity to cycle off-road. I became frustrated - both because I was too afraid to do it, and because that wasn't what we were there for. I insisted that we walk the bikes and search for potential scene backdrops instead. He agreed, but I could tell that his spirit yearned for off-road cycling and he wasn't truly able to keep his mind on our project.

Finally, we happened upon a grassy clearing with wildflowers, and now it was my turn to get distracted. I was supposed to be taking test shots of the location, but I could not resist the opportunity to take "bike portraits". Neither could the Co-Habitant. We ended up posing our bicycles amidst the flowers and then cycling around the grassy meadow, just to get it out of our system. Pathetic!

In the end, we did take the test shots we needed, and even came up with plans for the perfect backdrop. But the process took all day, and we repeatedly struggled with staying on task. The lesson? Well, I guess that we have a hard time combining fieldwork with long bike trips, as the latter is not only exhausting, but fosters a cycling-specific atmosphere that is difficult (for us) to break out of.

That is not to say that we are giving up and will take the car on such trips next time. Rather, I am trying to figure out how to prevent the same conflict from happening again. As much as I love bicycles, they are (believe it or not!) not the center of my universe, and my artwork is infinitely more important to me. I would like for cycling to be a tool that will help me with fieldwork, without sucking all the attention away from it. Just need to figure out how exactly to make that happen.

Read More

Drop Bar Diaries

So I have a confession to make... I have been riding Graham (my new Rivendell Sam Hillborne) almost exclusively since I got him - drop bars and all. I've now twined his bars, gave him the Carradice bag that had hitherto been on my Pashley (the Pashley will soon be getting panniers), and have ridden him for about 120 miles in total.

Every time I ride this bike, I feel that my comfort level with the diamond frame and the drop bars increases exponentially.

And the Brooks B17S Standard saddle was much easier to break in than the Flyer Special (that I'd put on my Motobecane mixte last year). I attribute this to the thicker leather on the "Special" models.

The only difficulty I've had so far, happened when I was unexpectedly caught in a downpour 13 miles from home. Minutes after the above picture was taken, it began to pour. The bicycle handled splendidly, but the problem was that my wet fingers would slip on the wet brake levers when trying to squeeze them, and I had serious trouble using the brakes. This problem might be unique to me, as I have nerve damage in my hands and a very weak grip.

Having survived the ride home, I promptly purchased a pair of full-fingered cycling gloves. The material on the fingertips is grippy and should do better on wet levers than my fingers. I will keep these in Graham's saddlebag from now on, in case I get stuck in the rain again.

Other than the rainy lever-slip issue, I have been surprised at the lack of "challenges". I am even able to use the bar-end shifters! I am keeping the giraffine stem extension for now, but in another week or so I think I will feel comfortable lowering it.

Here you can see that I really am quite leaned over as it is when reaching for the hoods. I know that the bike will look nicer if the saddle and handlebars are at the same level, but the lean will be too much. I think I will compromise and lower it half-way.

Front view showing the current reach when on the hoods.

Well, that is my progress update so far. I can't express how happy it makes me to be able to ride this bike after having anxious doubts about whether I'd really be up to it when the time came. I am in love with the drop bars and will write a separate post about them soon, discussing hand positions.

Read More

Sam Hillborne Ride Report

{edited to add:  There is now also a full review of this bicycle, written after 6 months of ownership}

I've now gone on my first proper ride on the Rivendell Sam Hillborne - 25 miles or so. I include some quick pictures of this glorious bicycle, but I am not entirely finished setting it up yet - so I will save the glamour shots and detailed close-ups for when it is complete. For now, here is a first ride report.

The build is fairly classic, with long distance riding in mind. I will go into excruciating detail about all the components in a later post - but if you have a specific question, feel free to ask. Of course I know what some of you are thinking right about now: "Gee, couldn't she get that stem to extend any higher?" So I will explain that the giraffine stem extension is to get me used to the drop bars. Because I have a short torso, I am practically lying down across the top tube in order to keep my hands on the "hoods" of the handlebars unless I have the stem extended this high. I might need to think of a more elegant solution, but not sure what can be done. I do not like the look of the "dirt drop" stem, but perhaps I should rethink that.

This is a pretty accurate picture of the bicycle's proportions, as well as of its size in relation to my body. I am 5'7". The bicycle is a 52cm frame with 650B wheels. Other than the strained handlebar reach, it's a perfect fit.

The biggest challenge I anticipated with this bicycle was riding with drop bars. As I've mentioned before, I was determined to learn to ride with these handlebars "properly". In the picture above I have my hands on the "hoods" of the brake levers, which is a position that allows both a semi-upright posture and braking. The drop bar hand positions are like nothing I had tried before, and the dynamics are very foreign to me. Controlling the bicycle feels so different, that I do not even know how to describe the sensation. It is as if my very concept of "handlebars" had to be discarded. If you've ridden with drop bars all your life, you probably don't understand what the big deal is - but for someone new to it, holding these bars can feel counter-intuitive and scary.

Having said that, I was surprised at how quickly I grew comfortable with the drop bars in the course of the ride. After the first mile, I loosened my death grip on the hoods and began to trust that the brakes would work when pressed from the top. After the second mile, I began to move my hands around a bit by sliding them along the bars - never venturing too far from the brakes. A couple of miles later, I was able to change positions freely and to take my left hand off the bars entirely.

The one thing I still cannot do is shift. The bar end shifters are so far down, that I do not feel confident enough yet to reach there with my right hand while cycling. But next time, learning to shift will be my main task.

Once I grew used to the handlebars and relaxed, I was able to pay attention to the ride quality itself - and it was ...amazing. Where to start? First of, there was a miraculous lack of pressure on any specific part of my body. No feeling of pressure on the hands despite being leaned over, and not much pressure on the butt either. Where does the pressure go?.. Is it all on the feet and I was pedaling extra hard without knowing it? Or is it so well distributed between hands and butt that I feel it on neither? I wish I understood bicycle geometry better.

The other miraculous thing is that I can get full leg extension on this bicycle and still touch the ground with a toe when stopped. I am guessing that a combination of a semi-relaxed seat tube angle and low bottom bracket makes this possible. The geometry is perfect for someone like me, who wants to be able to touch the ground when stopped. Also perfect is the fact that it is impossible for my foot to hit the front wheel when turning on the Hillborne - something that happens on my Motobecane and other roadbikes I have tried.

Finally, the Sam Hillborne is super stable and easy to balance - which I feel is not just due to the fat Grand Bois Hetre tires, but to the frame design itself. Cornering is especially delightful, because the bicycle feels both responsive and stable, a combination I have never experienced together. I imagined that my first ride would be very slow and very careful, just trying to get used to the drop bars and the diamond frame without falling. Instead, I soon began to pass people and to enjoy the turns in the road, feeling safe and perfectly balanced.

At the end of my 25 mile ride, I felt that I was just beginning to warm up and was now ready for "the real ride". And that, more anything, sums up what the Sam Hillborne feels like and what it was designed for. Don't be fooled by the good looks: This is an amazingly capable and comfortable bicycle, and I am happy that I have gone from being too scared to touch it (Harris Cyclery can attest to this!) to riding it in the way it was intended to be ridden. I still have a way to go before the drop bars and diamond frame become second nature to me, but I am looking forward to the learning experience.

Oh, and the bicycle's name is Graham. If you can guess why, then you probably already know his last name as well.

Read More

Natural Habitat

English Roadsters were designed for long country rides, and there is nothing quite like experiencing them in this setting. My Raleigh DL-1 in particular seems to thrive on long distances and can pick up speed to an amazing degree if you just give it an open road.

The Co-Habitant is a strong cyclist and he likes to go fast. When we are on equivalent bicycles (for example, both on our Pashleys or both on our Motobecane roadbikes), I have a hard time keeping up with him unless he intentionally controls his speed for my sake. However, when he is on his Pashley and I am on my vintage Raleigh, I can keep up with him perfectly. The Raleigh DL-1 is a powerful and well-designed machine despite its sweet "old timer" appearance.

And the vintage Sturmey Archer AW 3-speed hub is downright magical. First gear is excellent for uphill cycling in mildly hilly areas. Second is my versatile go-to gear for flat terrain when I want to go at a conservative speed. And third gear allows me to pedal downhill, as well to increase speed after maxing out second gear on flat terrain. I have honestly never felt the need for more gears on this bicycle, and don't understand why none of the modern 3, 5, 7, or 8-speed hubs I have tried have the same great feeling.

If my devious plan to install a coaster brake on this bicycle works out, it will be so perfect that I am almost afraid to think about it lest I jinx it. For now, we dream as we watch the sunset.

Read More

The Road is Calling

Despite those innocent-looking cherry blossoms, Marianne is gradually turning into a lean, mean, cycling machine - albeit in the loveliest way possible.

My upside-down Albatross bars are considerably lower than my saddle, which I hope will gradually prepare me for the drop bars on my (soon to be ready!) Sam Hillborne. I want to make sure that by the time I get the drop bars, I am able to use them properly (with my hands either in the drops or on the hoods of the brake levers, but not on the straight top portion of the bars).

But I guess the big question here is "why?". Why the desire for speed and aggressive riding positions, why this sudden appearance of shorts? Well, because I like it - Not instead of relaxed cycling on a nice heavy loop frame - but in parallel to it. It's like someone enjoying both strolling and jogging - but not at the same time and not wearing the same clothes. I have discovered that I like pedaling fast and traveling far, I like learning how to maneuver a road-bike, and I like using those muscles in the back of the upper thighs that only get engaged when riding in this position. I am a remarkably un-athletic person with some long-standing health problems, and yet I can handle cycling. So I suppose I want to see how far I might go if I put my mind to it. Can someone as "frail" as me really hope to do century rides? Multi-day touring? Race at the velodrome? I guess we shall see!

Meanwhile, meet my latest addition to Marianne's fearsome accoutrements: these vintage Atom 700 French road pedals. Harris Cyclery had some used ones in the shop, and now they are mine!

To describe these pedals in an uneducated manner: The metal surface is toothy and grippy, more so than that of touring pedals I've tried. In addition, there is a raised notch on the side, that keeps your foot in place - At least I am guessing that this is what it is for, since that is the effect it has on my foot.

See the raised notch? Once the shoe is firmly placed on the pedal, the toothy surface and the outer notch make it feel glued in place. It is the closest thing to a foot retention system I have been able to handle so far. The benefit of feeling your foot "attached" to the pedal became clear to me once I switched Marianne's previous pedals to these, and returned to the rolling hills of Concord. I know that there are conflicting opinions regarding whether retention systems are useful, so I speak solely for myself: These pedals made a difference to me when cycling long-distance, especially on hills.

The downside, is that these are a pain to use in the city where one has to make frequent stops and starts. Unlike other pedals, there is a "right" and a "wrong" side to them: The correct side has the grippy surface and the outer notches. The wrong side is slippery and pretty much impossible to keep your foot on. The problem is that the pedals naturally want to hang wrong-side up when left alone, and so, when starting from a stop, you first plant your foot correctly onto the starting pedal, then push off and begin searching with your other foot (without looking at your toe! - remember, you're in traffic) for the correct side of the other pedal. Sounds horrifying, but actually it's not so bad once I got used to it. I've got the toe-searching down to only a few seconds now. For long sporty rides, it is worth it. I will keep cycling with these as they are for a while, and add "half-clips" when I feel ready... I need to get myself used to foot retention systems gradually if I plan to try cycling at the velodrome in the future!

Read More

Notes After 40 Miles

Apparently I can go on a 40 mile ride just several days after having gone on a 36 mile ride, with shorter (12 mile) rides in between. This gives me hope that I may be able to handle consecutive longer-mile days soon.

If I pace myself, I never get out of breath and experience only anaerobic (leg muscle) strain. Oddly, cycling reminds me of yoga and pilates in this regard, which I used to do in my twenties. I had never made that connection before.

I am absolutely fine without padded cycling shorts for 40 miles. But next time I will remember to pack warmer clothes, even if it's hot when I set off.

This one was surprising: Cycling long distance is more tiring for me with a partner than alone. The Co-Habitant and I seem to have different cycling rhythms. He may disagree with this, but my impression is that he starts out going as fast as he can, then slows down when he grows tired. I am the opposite: I start slow, then gradually gain energy and speed up as the ride progresses. Still, cycling together is of course more interesting.

Cycling to a beautiful and meaningful destination is highly motivating; the feeling of exploring holds my interest. I think I am ready for 50 miles. But where to?

Read More

Mini-Tour to Concord, MA

Last Sunday I felt so invigorated in my spring Wheeling Suit, that I decided it was time for my first mini-tour. The Co-Habitant had to work, so I went on my own - to Concord, which is a small town about 18 miles from where we live.

Here is Marianne posing to show off that she had reached Concord.

This is a popular cycling route in the Boston area. I first went through the Minuteman Trail and then cycled on the road (Route 62 W) for an additional 5.5 miles. At the end of the Minuteman Trail, I overheard a pair of road cyclists - dressed in full lycra and on super-high-tech bikes - discussing whether they should go to Concord or choose a different direction. One of them said that the route to Concord is really hilly and he didn't feel like dealing with that. This alarmed me, but I decided to start cycling in that direction anyway just to see how it is. If too hilly, I would simply turn back. Well, clearly that did not happen - which makes me wonder how to interpret the super-roadcyclist's comment. The terrain was completely manageable on a 12-speed bicycle.

Hills or no hills, I loved cycling on Route 62. There are few cars, plenty of shade even at mid-day, fresh air, and often a shoulder to cycle on. Along the way are farms, picturesque New England houses, old cemeteries, and stretches of woods. This is my dream landscape for touring, and I wonder whether Route 62 West continues to be just as nice further West? If you are local, please let me know.

It took me about 1 1/2 hours to arrive to Concord center from my house, not counting a coffee stop along the way. Since it is an 18-mile route, this means I was going an average of 12 mph: slow and steady, which is probably a good way to start for someone like me.

Concord, Massachusetts is a fascinating town from a historical perspective - having been home to Emerson, Thoreau and Hawthorne, among others. Its most famous site is probably Walden Pond, but I intentionally did not cycle in that direction because I want to visit it with the Co-Habitant. Instead, Marianne and I explored the town center.

It was Easter Sunday, and the people out on the streets were an amusing mix of churchgoers in their Sunday best and cyclists in skin-tight black and neon lycra.

The mood in the town center was festive.

No businesses were open except for a couple of cafes, but it was fascinating just to walk around the streets and observe.

For such a tiny town, Concord is home to a staggering number of churches. I think there were close to a dozen in the center alone.

Aside from churches, I noticed an abundance of landmark signs that refer to things that were once in that spot, but no longer are: trees that have been felled, streams that have been drained and built upon, mills and historical homes that have been demolished, etc.

There is a feeling of living in the past that the town seems to intentionally embrace - from the quaint storefronts on Main Street, to other nostalgic details here and there, like this antique bicycle next to a popular food market. I wonder whether the area around Walden Pond has a similar feel to it. Hopefully we will visit there soon.

After spending about an hour and a half in Concord, I headed back - via Route 62 again and then the Minuteman Trail. Not much was in bloom along the trail yet, but it was good to be there for the first time since November. Despite it being Easter Sunday, the path was not too crowded and I returned home in good time.

For my first mini-tour involving road cycling and a specific destination, I thought this went well. I ate at well-spaced intervals and did not get tired. In general, I feel that my endurance of long rides is determined more by comfort than physical ability: pain begins to bother me before I have the chance to grow tired. In the past, the major problems were saddle discomfort (the Brooks Flyer Special refused to break in no matter what), handlebar discomfort (too much weight placed on the hands would result in pain), and generally feeling not entirely in control of this bicycle. The control problem has been solved now. And after the latest raising of the saddle, the Flyer feels much better. The handlebars remained an issue simply because the mountain bike hand position of the Milan bars is not good for long rides. My hands did not go numb during this trip, but I felt that it would happen soon if I kept going. I have now found a solution to this, and will write about it in the next post.

A 36-mile trip is not a big deal, but it's a good step up from the 25-mile trips I have been taking. My plan is to eventually proceed to 50 miles, then more, so as to be ready for a multi-day tour by the end of summer. Any advice about the proper way to do this - or nice spots to cycle to in New England - is welcome!

Read More