They're Gone!

This morning when we got to The Family History Library all of the pretty flowers had been removed. My guess is they will be planting something soon, but it was such a shock to see nothing but brown dirt in the flower beds. They were so colorful...

It's Not About the Weather

While we wait for Hurricane Sandy to arrive, I am still finding sand caked on my bike from an earlier rainy, muddy ride. It seems that every time I have ridden this bike so far, it has rained. Of course today, on my inaugural ride with fenders, it is sunny and dry. A friend consoles me by reminding me of the approaching hurricane. Surely I will have the opportunity to test the fenders then. I take the idea seriously and begin to mentally map out a route on some local trails, before realising how utterly insane that is. When the townsfolk are stocking up on canned goods and flashlight batteries, I should probably stay indoors.




With the season marching on toward starker days, I find myself thinking of weather.As cyclists we all tend to have an idea of the "perfect weather" for riding. For some it's the height of summer. For others it's that elusive "60 degrees and sunny, with a mild breeze." A few riders I know prefer cooler temperatures, and some even claim to enjoy rain. I think for me, the biggest revelation has been that, when push comes to shove, I can feel good in almost any weather.






After a recent post describing a rainy ride on dirt roads, a reader wrote:"It's in our nature to want to be comfortable and coddled, but you celebrate the joy of pushing yourself through rain and mud." I felt guilty reading this, because honestly I don't feel as if I am overcoming discomfort or pushing myself when I ride in those kinds of conditions. And I think that is the key to my being able to do it. The secret is to find a way of being comfortable, to just go with it and appreciate the situation for what it is, rather than spending energy on trying to overcome it. Maybe this is just a different way of looking at the same thing, but to me it makes a big difference. Rather than pushing through discomfort, I extract comfort.




Part of it is of course practical considerations. Figuring out how to dress, eat and drink in different conditions. Over the summer I stumbled upon some tricks that enabled me to ride in heat in humidity like I'd never managed to do before. And last winter, I discovered that riding in sub-20 degree temperatures was also very doable with the help of strategic layering. But equally important is the attitude. We have to be curious, interested. We have to want the experience.




What is my idea of perfect riding weather... Probably high 40s to low 50s, with heavily overcast skies. I feel most alive then; the raw energy in the air makes me want to ride faster, further. But in the end, it's not about the weather, but about finding comfort in whatever is thrown at me, about feeling coddled by the beauty of the surrounding landscape.

Fruitlands: a Ride of Passage

It was a remarkable day that I want to be sure to remember. Pamela must have sensed this before I did, because she offered to take a picture at the top. I didn't even know there would be an "at the top." I thought we were riding to yet another small town in the next county over. Nobody warned me it would be so beautiful.






It seems like sooner or later, every roadcyclist in Greater Boston does the ride to Harvard. Not Harvard the university half a mile from my house, but Harvard the town in central Massachusetts. Depending on the club or event, these rides are called things like "Hammer to Harvard" or "Hills of Harvard" or "the Harvard 100K." There are several routes and all involve some climbing at the end. I guess it's a rite of passage of sorts. The ride reports I'd read tended to stress the distance, pace or climbing. But Pamela's attitude was nonchalant. "I'm going to try out a new lunch spot in Harvard on Thursday, would you like to join me?" She was essentially just inviting me for a bite to eat. Well, why not. A girl's got to eat.






So here is the straight dope about the Harvard ride from a cyclist of my meager abilities: Forget milage, speed, climbing. Just forget that stuff for a second. What you need to know about this ride is that it is a gorgeous destination. You will be stunned. You will be grateful. Take one of the harder routes, take one of the easier routes, hammer, meander, ride however you like. But know that the destination is worth it. And for the love of the universe, don't stop at the Harvard General Store and turn around - you will only be cheating yourself out of a breathtaking view. Continue to Fruitlands, which is the true destination. Adjacent to the formerutopian agrarian commune (now a museum) is a scenic overlook with a view of every mountain in proximity. That's six mountains!






As we lunched at the surprisingly fancy Fruitlands Cafe (patio seating with a view, pretty silverware, reasonable prices) I was almost too stunned to make conversation. Pinch me, was I dreaming? Why did nobody tell me what a glorious place this was? The land, densely forested, spread out in front of us in shades of blues and greens. There was Mt. Wachusett, a flat-top stodgy thing. And there was the Monadnock range in New Hampshire, hazy and delicate. They all seemed so close, so inviting. The special thing about this destination, I realised, is that it inspires to ride further.It turned out to be an 80 mile day for me, a distance I'd never before done so casually.And though we rode home after lunch, one day I'd like to keep going - toward and across those other mountains.

Morning in Devil's Garden

After a good night's sleep in the tent we woke to a clear blue sky over the desert. I couldn't resist the morning light being so close to an interesting area, so I got up early to walk back down to Devil's Garden and make some more images amongst the hoodoos. This is such a fascinating place no matter what time of day you visit. It was fun watching the first light of day catch the tops of the hoodoos then slowly work its way down towards the ground. I found several interesting things to photograph that morning, but the image shown here was my favorite by far. After a little bit of photography it was time to head back to camp for breakfast and get ready for our day-long hike to Zebra and Tunnel slot canyons.

One Way Tikit: a Bike Friday Folder

For some time now I've been curious to try aBike Friday folding bike. They are pretty unusual around these parts, so an opportunity never presented itself. Imagine my delight upon discovering that someone I knew owned one. Hidden deep in her bike cave, this single speed Tikit stood mostly unridden since the owner, Pamela, stopped commuting to a downtown office. But hearing of my interest she dusted off the machine, and soon I was over to examine the rare specimen.






Made by the family-owned Green Gear Cycling in Eugene, Oregon, Bike Friday folding bikes have been handbuilt in the USA since the early 1990s. The range of models includes road, touring, mountain, commuter and tandem folding bikes - and all are highly customisable. Most of the models are designed around 20" wheels, with the fold optimised for packing the bike into a suitcase. However, the Tikit commuter modelsare made more compact with 16" wheels, and are designed to fold quickly for multi-modal transportation.






Welded in steel, frame and fork, there are 9 Tikit models in all, offering different drivetrain and handlebar setup options. The One Way Tikit is the single speed/ fixed gear version.






It is set up with a flip-flop hub,






v-brakes, fenders, built-in chainguard,






straight handlebars,





a handy carry handle (could be a bottle cage here instead),






and a low-rider style front rack.







Being a fan of generator lighting, Pamela had set up the bike with a dynamo hub wheel (unattached here, as it had recently been loaned out).







A bike bag also comes with the Tikit, which can be stowed away into a tiny packet when not in use.






Unlike most other folding bikes, Bike Fridays are available in different sizes. I am unsure what size this Tikit translates to, but its virtual top tube measures an inch or so shorter than the Brompton's (which is approximately 59cm). The seat tube is quite tall, with the saddle barely low enough to accommodate myself and the bike's owner (we are both just over 5'6"). However, as I understand it, the seat tube is modular and can be cut down or replaced with a shorter one.





Bike Friday Tikits have had a couple of modifications over the past few years. The area over the bottom bracket is now made stiffer, with older models retrofitted with a stiffener bar. They have also recently made a beefier stem for the Tiket, the older one having been recalled (the bike pictured here has the new stem).






The fold is fairly quick, "less than 9-12 seconds after loosening one twist-locking fastener," according to Bike Friday.






It is Bromptonesque in sequence, except for the seat tube - which gets folded over, rather than slid down.







Notably, the front pannier can be kept on the low-rider rack as the bike is being folded.






The folded bike can be rolled along, using the wheels themselves, with the bag still attached.






It can also be carried by the handle - though Pamela notes that carrying the bike gets heavy and uncomfortable quickly, particularly when stairs are involved. Picking up the single speed Tikit, it did feel slightly heavier than an all-steel Brompton similarly equipped. And the fold is not as compact. However, the carry handle is quite comfortable compared to how a Brompton must be carried, and being able to roll the Bike Friday by its actual wheels (rather than by the tiny roller-wheels on the Brompton) is a big help.






With its hub flipped to freewheel mode, I rode the Tikit around Pamela's neighbourhood. My first impression was that the front-end handling was not dissimilar from my Brompton's. In fact, I would describe the Friday as feeling like a "less extreme" version of the Brompton in that sense. As a result of this similarity, I immediately felt familiar and comfortable with the bike. While the Tikit is Bike Friday's commuter model, with less focus on performance than the others, I certainly found it lively enough - a fun, quick, maneuverable ride. This makes me want to try a smaller size - I bet it would be even more responsive for someone of my stature. With the 16" wheels, there would be no danger of toe overlap no matter what frame size I chose.




On pothole ridden streets, the Tikit's ride quality felt a bit harsh. Riding over torn-up pavement I felt vibrations in my hands and jolts throughout (an impression the bike's owner agrees with). However, on decently maintained roads the ride quality was smooth and pleasant. As an aside here, where we live the roads are particularly poorly maintained; just have a close look at the picture above to see what I mean - the entire street is like that. One could certainly argue that these are not "normal" commuter conditions.






After my initial spin on the Tikit, I then rode it again - this time loaded with some weight. We attached a pannier to the low-rider rack, in which Pamela placed a 10lb bottle of antifreeze. This is about the maximum weight she would typically carry on this bike, she said. The Tikit's low-rider will accommodate most standard panniers, including the one shown from Ortlieb. On a small wheel bike, it is actually not a "low" rider, since it sits above the wheel. This is also how it manages to lift the pannier high enough to keep from dragging along the ground. Little notches along the rack's tubing prevent the pannier from sliding, so it sits securely. The rack is one-sided (right side only), and rolling the bike along I could feel the weight of the pannier pulling to the side. However, once in motion no such thing was discernible. The Tikit handled great with the unilateral front load - I could not feel it at all. This system does limit how much weight one can carry on the bike, but it is handy enough for commuting. I believe that a rear rack is also available for this model.




While I would not switch from my Brompton, I liked the Bike Friday Tikit and would feel comfortable riding it for transportation. A particularly big advantage, as I see it, is the variety in sizes and customisation options. Being able to roll the bike by its wheels is handy as well. And being able to use a standard pannier, as opposed to having to buy a proprietary front bag, could be another plus for those with multiple bikes. Careful tire, saddle and grip selection could compensate for the rough-road harshness I experienced.






When I was over to test ride this bicycle, the owner surprised me by announcing that she plans to give it away. That's right: Pamela Blalock's personal Bike Friday One Way Tikit pictured here could be yours - complete with flip-flop freewheel/fixed gear hub, fenders, front rack, spare generator hub wheel and a spare set of tires (pannier not included). For details of the give-away, please visit The Blayleys blog!




And if you are in the market for a folding bike, visit the Bike Friday website and prepare to be dazzled with their myriad of stock and custom options. The history of the company is pretty interesting as well. Folding bikes of all types made in Oregon, USA, with prices starting at $1,400 and around a month lead time. Pretty neat!

Fully Summer

Optimal route condition and great weather systems are starting to line up with one another. Longer trail approaches on the West Side of the mountain are melting out which facilitates access to some rarely climbed gems. The freezing level has been hovering between 12,000 feet to 14,000 feet making for comfortable climbs. Mid-July has historically been the busiest time up high on the mountain - and for good reason.



Crevasses are starting to open wider, and as the summer wears on, the routes that navigate along glaciers become more circuitous. Longer summit climbs aren't necessarily the worst thing, but they can put climbers crossing bridges and overhangs during the warmest part of the day.



Notable events in the last week include a posse of "mono-skiers" on the Muir Snowfield, the opening of the new Carbon River Ranger Station in the often overlooked northwestern part of the park, and black bears starting to make their way into the alpine meadows. Come on up and enjoy prime-time at the park!

State of Grace

I sawher picture in a magazine and it was instant girl crush. I had never seen a creature so beautiful: She was like a graceful, violent, dirty Snow White. "That's Maureen Bruno-Roy," I was told, "she's a professional cyclocross racer." Half a year later, I was sitting in her kitchen. "Mo" was making tea while talking about her massage therapy business and riding Dutch bikes for transportation in Belgium. "Racing..." she shook her head with a smile when I brought it up, as if the concept both amused and confused her. "I am grateful that I happen to be good at it, but it's not everything." She showed me her pink Shogun mixte, which she rides to work in her regular clothes. She spoke about how much she loves bicycle infrastructure. Later we looked over her fleet of sponsored, impeccably tuned racing bikes in the basement. "You are welcome to borrow one," she said, as if talking about lending me a sweater...






In between sips of coffee, I glanced up at the television screen with boredom, watching the race with unseeing eyes. A man in a zip-up sweater and a baseball cap glanced at me from the bar, then stood up and walked over to my table. He began to narrate the race in my ear as it unfolded, telling back stories about the riders and their behind-the-scenes dramas, then interrupting himself to describe what it was like to corner in the rain on a particular descent that was coming up, then interrupting himself again to speculate about the psychological state of the riders as they prepared to execute some maneuver I only vaguely understood. This was the 1989 World Cycling Championships race and he made it happen live, right in front of us. That was how I met the race announcerRichard Fries. Later I snapped some shots of him at the Providence Cyclocross Festival. I wonder whether he realised that in some way he was responsible for my being there...








When I started riding with the legendary randonneusePamela Blalock, the thing that stunned me was that I never felt slow or inadequate. How could it be that I struggled to keep up with ordinary cyclists who were just slightly more experienced than me, and yet the Climbing Goddess and I seemed so effortlessly in sync? This was my first taste of a strange paradox: Riding with people who are way, way better than me is easier than riding with people who are just a little better...







For a brief portion of a group ride, my path once crossed with the awe-inspiring endurance racerJohn Bayley. He rode next to me in the tail end of the double line we formed as if it were the most normal thing in the world for the likes of him to be riding with the likes of me. He truly made me feel that it was. We entered a stretch of dirt road that was rutted out and iced over in spots. As we chatted, I saw that, side by side and at considerable speed, we were approaching a narrow ridge between two deep ruts that only one of our wheels could possibly fit through. Before I knew what was happening, he wiggled ever so subtly and I instinctively followed suit, and without breaking stride, we both ended up riding along that narrow ridge without crossing wheels or slipping off of it. I doubt John even remembers this, considering he just kept cycling and chatting blithely while it was happening. But the incident was etched into my mind. "So this is how you do it..."





As a rider, Emily surprised me with her psychic abilities. When we cycle on narrow roads with traffic, we will ride single file and she will go in the front. And when she does this, Emily somehow knows exactly what speed to maintain so that I am right behind her at all times. I want to go faster and suddenly she is pedaling more vigorously. I slow down a tad and so does she, as if anticipating my fluctuating energy levels. "But Emily, how do you do that?" She says that she can see me in the corner of her eye, but I don't buy it. I try this when I ride with others, and find it impossible. I never, ever know how fast to go when I'm in the front. I'll think that I am going at a consistent pace, but then I'll look over my shoulder and see that I lost people; I feel like a jerk. Some day I want to be psychic, like Emily...









I could not get over the wayPatriarode her racing bike. It was with the attitude of riding a beach cruiser. Easy-peasy, fun-fun-fun. We rode so close that our handlebars were almost touching and I hardly noticed. We talked, we laughed, we gossiped, and before I knew it we crested the hill that I thought I was too out of shape to tackle without disgracing myself.It was 35 degrees Fahrenheit.A group of men from another local club passed us going in the opposite direction. Feeling feisty, we waved at them exhuberantly and they yelled something in a cheerful tone before disappearing. When I mentioned my struggles with clipless pedals Patria reacted as if we were discussing fashion accessories. "Why don't you try the shoes I wear? You might like them better. And they come in this cute color..." A week later I was riding clipless. No practicing in the parking lot, no problems. Everything is easy with Patria...






When I first visited the Ride Studio Cafeover two years ago, there was a tall, boyish man working there, making coffee and sweeping floors. He made my Americano, and told me his name was Rob. I assumed he was the barista, and he did nothing to contradict this impression. We'd chat when I visited the shop. I thought he was nice. Some months later I asked the guy at the cash register whom to see about test-riding a Seven. He pointed to the barista. "Talk to him, that's the owner." "The owner of what?" I asked. "The owner of Seven Cycles. And the Ride Studio Cafe."



It's been almost a year now since I formally joined my cycling club. It is not my intent to promote them here, but only to thank them. It is through this club that I've met all the people described here, who have opened up my mind, challenged my pre-conceived notions and expanded my point of view. Some people help you and you feel grateful, indebted. Others help you and you don't even know it. A person who can do that has achieved a state of grace.

Death Valley :: Scottys Castle

Be forewarned – this post is graphic intensive – lots of photos!



Thursday, March 8th - - Continuing on with today's excursion, it was only a few miles further north to Scotty's Castle. Walter Scott was a shyster. Using the lure of untold millions of dollars worth of gold in his mine, he duped wealthy business men into financing his imaginary mine – though they didn't know the mine really didn't exist! He eventually incurred the favor of a wealthy business man from Chicago. Albert Johnson, in poor health found another kind of wealth from the dry desert air and an escape from the busy life he led. He enjoyed Scotty's company and the tales he told, whether true or not.



In the early 1920s Mr. Johnson began construction of a vacation home – his wife didn't care much for camping and sleeping on the ground but she enjoyed being in the desert. Within a short time, the palatial house became known as “Scotty's Castle” and the Johnson's went along with it all, perhaps getting a great deal of pleasure in the ruse they were playing on friends and guests who visited the ranch and listened to the stories told by Scotty.



You can read more about the story behind Scotty's Castle on the Death Valley website. It's a fun and interesting story!





As you are driving in from the south, through pretty much barren land, nestled in a small valley at the end of Death Valley National Park there is a little oasis, likely the only potable water in that end of the valley, and nearby is the site upon which Mr. Johnson chose to build his little house.





The courtyard between the two buildings with the clock tower in the background.



Inscribed above the door is “Death Valley Ranch” which is the name the Johnson's gave the place.



The interior of the house is dimly lit, the windows are covered with the original draperies some of which were made of leather. The draperies are closed to block out the sunlight and help preserve the furnishings. Oddly enough, photographs are allowed to be taken inside – even with flash!







The main entry-room was impressive with its floor to ceiling fireplace spanning two floors. The second floor has a balcony that goes completely around the entry-room.





The tour guides dress in period costumes from the 1930s, which is when the Johnson's opened their home to tour groups to help pay for the upkeep of the ranch.





Decorative tiles over the kitchen sink.



The kitchen stove, with copper cooking utensils. The little white appliance on the left of the shelf above the stove is a toaster. Their vacation may have been in a remote area, but the Johnson's had the latest and most modern features.





A floor level view of that fireplace, taken from the kitchen doorway.



A corner fireplace in one of the guest rooms upstairs.



The music room. To the left was a long alcove with a player organ. As part of the tour, they turn it on and play one song. It was beautiful and quite loud.





The elaborate ceiling of the music room. The cables are part of the original construction, used to keep the walls from bulging outward.





A beautiful stained glass window in the west wall of the music room.



Looking up the spiral staircase that leads to the top of the tower, which can be seen on the right side of the photo below.





A front view of Scotty's Castle. The pool in front goes the entire length of the house, and more. The tour guide said it had never been filled with water. If you look closely you can see a cross on the hill above and behind the house. Scotty's grave is to the left of the cross, he died in 1954.





I was amused by the “old prospector” weather vane atop the front tower, probably depicting Scotty on one of his legendary mining expeditions.