Bikewriter's Blog

Kettle Trestles

2012-01-27T06:06:00.000-08:00

One of the key facets of the Kettle Valley Railway is the number of trestles over rivers, creeks, washouts and other inpediments to train travel. One cannot traverse a long section of the trail without the pleasure of crossing one of these structures.

Photo by: Kenneth Roy

In the Myra Canyon, until a cyclist was killed by tumbling off one of the trestles, the structures themselves had no guardrails of any kind which made for very hairy riding I'm sure. My cycling friend Roy has ridden the canyon trestles with no guadrails and described it as being okay as long as you stay in the center. Signs had been posted at that time commanding bike riders to dismount. (As if).

One of the vicims of the OK Mountain fire

The Okanagan Mountain fire destroyed a number of trestles as it swept uncontrolled through the canyon and it was with a great deal of expense and effort that the destroyed trestles were rebuilt for the enjoyment of thousands of cyclists, hikers and interested parties. I rode a steam train a couple of years ago and the engineer explained the phenomenon of great clouds of steam being ejected from lower down on the engine - very picturesque. Turns out the train engineer would release steam pressure when travelling over a trestle so that the moisture would dampen the railway ties and prevent cinders from the smokestack from igniting the wooden trestle. Who knew?

A good place to find out more info on trestles is the book "McCullough's Wonder" which I found at the railway museum in Midway, B.C. In the book are numerous pictures of the incredible engineering that went into building even the smallest trestle and you will be amazed at how the larger structures were constructed - you can see from the photo below how complicated they can be. If I'm not mistaken, this is the trestle over Poole Creek in the Myra Canyon.

The guy is headed toward the train!

Presto! Presta

2012-01-24T07:26:00.000-08:00

I wish it was as simple as Presto! when using a Presta valve. When it comes to bike valves - I can't stand Presta valves. Who invented these confounded contraptions anyway? What is wrong with Schrader valves?

Cofounded contraption

Oh yeah, they tell you that on high pressure road bike wheels that the valve stem hole needs to be smaller to help with keeping the rim strong. Does 2 mm. make that much difference in strength? Other people argue that using a Presta valve saves weight versus using a Schrader valve. Does a couple of grams affect your performance that much? With the kind of non-competitive riding I do, I can't see it making that much of a difference.

On my Proctor Townsend which I ride in the basement, I've taken to threading on those brass adapters to convert Presta to Schrader and this has made me happy. Plus I'm not using up compressed air cylinders which are the only things I have found that work consistently well in pumping up Presta valves.

As a volunteer bike mechanic at "BikeWorks", I've seen a few cases where the cyclist has drilled out the Presta hole and replaced the tube with a Schrader equipped tube. Not that I think it would weaken the rim but I can't see myself drilling out my valve stem holes - what if I screwed it up and ruined a fine rim?

Brass adapter

All By Myself

2012-01-19T07:24:00.000-08:00

It must have been 7 years ago that my friend Roy must have mentioned bicycle camping and the trips that he had taken on the KVR. While I had never heard of it, he described exotic sounding places. Zack's campground in Beaverdell. 27 trestles in the Myra Canyon. Mudslides near Princeton. Exorbitant fees for everything at Chute Lake.

My imagination was stirred when Roy described how he and his nephew rounded a bend in the trail, deep in the forest and there standing in the middle of the trail was a soldier who informed them that they were not going any further. "We have enough people lost in the woods - we don't need any more. You'll have to go back and find another route!" This was during the Okanagan Mountain fire. Just the encouragement I need to go!

The fire Richard, Roy and I experienced near Princeton

When I think of how far I have come in the last five years riding almost the full length of the KVR, I'm now prepared to lead an expedition of my own. And I describe it that way as I sit here indoors and the temperature is still - 30 Celsius outside and too cold for me to be out riding - although I admire the cyclists who are out there right now braving the cold - people like Coreen. So I daydream...

Swimmers under the Cascade trestle

The expedition will claw our way to various summits, camp in the middle of nowhere, be excited when we come upon a country store, enjoy any food that comes our way and most of all, discover history together and feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment as we swagger into town and act as though our trip was nothing as we regale neighbouring campers will tales of our exploits.

Love those tunnels!

Like an expedition, there will be decisions to make on the trail, choices to be made. Weather is a always a factor. Too hot can be just as taxing as too cold. Conditioning (training) will play a key role in the amount of enjoyment riding the trails will bring. It will be easier for my daughter and I since we will train for the MS Bike tour in June and by doing the KVR, we will have a leg up on our training for the MS Mountain Tour in mid September.

The good old MS Tour in June

This year's bikepacking trip

2012-01-17T06:44:00.000-08:00

My family and I are in the process of planning a family bikepacking trip along the Kettle Valley Railway this summer and the idea is that my daughter, son and I will ride the trails on our bikes while my wife who doesn't cycle will drive the support vehicle.

Expect the unexpected

Already I can sense some disagreement as to how we're going to do this. One child is more than happy to put all his camping gear into the car and ride his bike unencumbered to the next campsite. Whereas my youngest wants to carry all her gear on her bike. I'm in the middle - the idea of just carrying the day's requirements is appealing, yet to do the trip proper, I want to carry all my gear.

We will find peaceful campsites

There are two major scenic routes along the KVR. There is the loop from Penticton east to Rock Creek and then up to the spectacular Myra Canyon but includes the deadly Anarchist Mountain climb. The campsites are plentiful and most of the overnight stops have full washroom facilities.

Could run into forest fires

Then there is the route from Castlegar to Midway and back which includes the longest tunnel on the KVR and very fetching views that last for hours as you ride above Lower Arrow Lake and Christina Lake. Not to mention the gorge at Cascade where on a hot day you can watch people swinging from the railway trestle into the ice cold, churning waters racing past the sheer granite walls beneath you.

A cool patio at a winery could be in the cards

Who carries how much gear on this trip will depend on how much conditioning each of us has had during the season and since we are thinking of going after the Labour Day weekend, all three of us will have had the maximum amount of training time possible to prepare before departure. My wife points out that she won't have to train at all to be able to press the accelerator on the car.

While she won't have to train, my wife will miss scenes like this

The Dream Board

2012-01-13T18:53:00.000-08:00

Right next to where I write the majority of my blogs I keep a large cork bulletin board which I cover with photos of my bike adventures. This display never ceases to put a smile on my face every time I glance that way.

Currently, the cork board is covered in pictures from last summer's Kettle Valley Railway excursion. One of my favourite pictures is of my two friends, Perry and Roy riding almost side by side up ahead of me. I timed the taking of the picture so that they would be passing through sunlight and out of the shady grove of lush forest.

The boys exiting the forest

The one picture that really grabs my eye is PIE! Look at that thick, sugar covered piece of art! See an earlier blog that says it all:http://bikewritersblog.blogspot.com/2011/09/british-california-pie.html

As I occasionally let my eye wander over to the cork board I'm inspired to plan another bike camping trip or as I've recently learned, these trips are now called "bikepacking" trips. Which makes complete sense to me as your panniers really are small versions of backpacks that strap onto your bike.

Bicycle Mail

2012-01-10T06:45:00.000-08:00

Who doesn't like to get mail? Especially in winter if it is a catalogue of bicycle tours arranged for the summer?

My wish book

My copy of the Adventure Cycling Association's 2012 Tours showed up in yesterday's mail and I couldn't wait to open it and dream. You may remember that Sears used to call their Christmas catalogue the "Wish Book" and this booklet is no different. Sitting in my most comfortable chair and enjoying the warm, low sun that is shining through my south facing windows, I became lost in a bicycle reverie.

Blissful reading

Taking me back to Charles Frazier's 1997 "Cold Mountain" I found a tour called the "Blue Ridge Bliss". A dismounted cyclist resting against a stone wall and soaking up the view over the hazy blue mountains that stretch to the horizon.

Doesn't that look inviting?

Every left hand page has an enticing, glossy photo of some sort of cycling adventure - a couple cycling along a mountain lake, a group of cyclists resting against the weathered boards of a barn wall or tandem riders breezing along a sinuous, canopied road.

The Adventure Cycling Association offers a range of bike tours to suit all ages and all skill levels. Everything from self supported tours to guided trips with a stop at a hotel or other accommodation each night.

While I might have my own plans for bike trips this summer, I still can dream can't I?

Cycle gifting

2012-01-05T13:00:00.000-08:00

What a wonderful time of the year to be a cycling enthusiast. Your loved ones find you easy to find a gift for since they know you are a cyclist.

Take this year for example. In our Secret Santa event at work, Greg, one of my co-workers gave me a set of bicycle shaped page markers that as an avid reader (especially in the winter) I will use repeatedly. Guessing that I'm old enough to enjoy a lava lamp, he gave me one of those as well.

My son Chris found an excellent cycling book that I'm very much looking forward to reading and perhaps reviewing on these pages.

A friend of mine, Alison whose little dog we baby-sit, gave me a lovely picture frame made from bicycle chain.

My wife gave me a pair of arm-warmers for my winter rides and a pair of boot covers (I almost said booty covers but you might get the wrong idea).

And my daughter gave me an MSR camp stove which I very interested in using when we hit the Kettle Valley Railway this summer and cook up some delicious backwoods meals.

Isn't it great to be a cycling enthusiast?

Last Ride of 2011

2011-12-31T11:07:00.000-08:00

With the temperature hovering near zero, there was nothing so pressing in my life that I couldn't go for a long bike ride. The recent freezing rain left a glossy coating of ice on every surface but was no match for my studded tires. Although I must confess that I almost lost it near the Antique Mall when I cut my front wheel too tightly to make way for a determined and focused shopper.

Shopper induced skid mark

The view of the emerald green water flowing underneath the High Level was a sight for sore eyes since the river is often the colour of a double double. The fact that a subway train was stopped on the LRT bridge was just icing on the cake.

The view from up top

The bear bells were still attached to the pedals of my winter bike from the Jingle Ride and their sound seemed to upset every dog that I passed - especially the three I in a scat and snow covered lawn. I pass these dogs twice a day normally and they never let out a peep.

Excited by bear bells?

I take encouragement wherever I find it and when I passed an old dude whose lighted cigarette only deepened the nicotine stains on his already coloured moustache, his declaration of "YEAH - HAW!" helped send me on my way and seemed to portend that 2012 is going to be a year to remember.

Have a great New Years!

I Did It My Way

2011-12-29T05:47:00.000-08:00

It was gratifying to open up the national weekend paper and find an article about cycle training in a very prominent place in the Sports section. Surely this means that cycling is becoming a much more recognized activity than it has been given in the past.

Having a swell time

The article in the paper described the training set-up and training routine of our national team in preparation for the Tour De France. The team captain, a yellow jersey wearer himself and the rest of the team look like they are having a terrific time sitting on their stationary bikes and with loads of electrodes and wires and cables snaking from their fantastically fit bodies to sophisticated electronic monitors.

My way

As you can see from the photo, my set-up is somewhat less elaborate. It still does the job of monitoring my heartrate, keeping me cool, timing me and the DVD player keeps me amused while exercising in the basement. The other thing in the basement that keeps me amused is the trainer that I ride on. It is simply made up of two rails that support three nylon rollers that the wheels of the bike fit snugly onto. It takes numerous tries to determine the correct speed to begin pedaling. Press too hard on the pedals and the bike flings itself off the rollers. Don't press hard enough and you have no forward momentum to keep you upright.

One set of rollers

A fellow at United Cycle told me about how some bicycle trainers he knows can hop from one set of rollers to another, pedal for a while and then hop back to the first. It is all I can do to stay upright and on the rollers. When I lose concentration and my bike inevitably careens off the trainer, the entertainment unit that appeared so far away comes charging at me very quickly at 10 miles per hour!

Someone from up above will shout down the basement stairwell "We heard a lot of crashing and breaking sounds - are you alright?"

Merry Christmas and Thank You!

2011-12-23T11:38:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of bikerumor.com

To all my faithful bicycle friends I want to extend my warmest wishes not only for this particular season but for the whole year.

I've appreciated you following my blogs and hopefully some of them have interested, informed or amused you throughout the year.

If you would care to send me your email address - I'll make arrangements to send you a little something to show my appreciation.

I can be contacted at: pearce3220@yahoo.ca

Oh - and a Happy New Year to you as well!

Proctor Townsend

2011-12-20T07:05:00.000-08:00

The new addition

A PT. A Proctor Townsend. Made in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. By a Mr. Proctor and a Mr. Townsend (oddly enough). I said goodbye to Mississippi 'Red this morning and took possession of this fine hand made bike. It's not a lot different than Mississippi 'Red but it is a jazzed up version and has Proctor/Townsend logos all over it. Call me neurotic, but if I'm going to be a proud owner/rider of a Proctor Townsend, then I want it plastered all over my bike.

Alex at Bikeworks did point out that the handle bars will need replacing since these ones are steel. I'll want to take off the rat trap pedals and replace them with my SPD's. The pink polka-dotted seat will have to go - I'll be putting on the Spiderflex when this baby hits the road in spring-time. As well, I stripped the mid-line brakes levers off of Mississippi 'Red and will be putting them on what I think I'm going to call Mississippi Too.

My brother asked me if owning this bike makes me a Proctologist?*&^%$#@!

Jingle All the Way (Part Two)

2011-12-15T07:56:00.000-08:00

Candy Ass Ride

Wow! Look at that bike! Incredibly decorated!

I'd like to say that a number of brave souls showed up but with the weather being so mild, it didn't take bravery to join the "Jingle Ride". Coreen who organized the ride expected some winter cycling newbies to join us, but all of us were winter riders. So without much ado, we filed out of BikeWorks under the glare of CITY TV's television lights. They planned to broadcast a story about the ride on today's Breakfast Television.

Our first stop was not far away in a residential area on the southside. The display of lights surrounding the whole house was so over-the-top that we felt sorry for all the neighbours whose fine displays would have garnered accolades under normal circumstances, but paled in comparison to this one house. Neon palm trees, Santa's doffing hats, reindeer twirling above the garage, arches made from candy canes and too many other colourful radiance's to mention.

Coreen's handlebars

Kim's pannier

Candy Candy Candy

It was terrific fun to ride across the High Level Bridge, along Jasper Ave., ride to the top of a downtown parkade (and zoom down as well), and race through the library's underground parking lot where a disgruntled security guard shouted for us to stop (which we roundly ignored) as we ripped through the warm underground structure.

Most of the group had packed skates along with their gear and it was with welcome relief that we all warmed up in the skating shack at the Legislature and munched on Christmas candy and power bars while Alex and Brett marvelled at the heated outhouses that had been installed around the rink. With heated seats no less!

The Legislature rink

Jingle All the Way

2011-12-13T06:01:00.000-08:00

Anticipation for jumping on our bikes and doing the "Jingle Ride" is mounting (no pun intended). It is a long wait until spring when the next "Tweed Ride" is scheduled so when another special ride is announced, the excitement builds quickly.

I heard from a contact of mine that Coreen of the fine bicycle blog "Breaking Chains and Taking Lanes" has organized a winter ride to enjoy some of the more spectacular Christmas lights strung up in our fair city. She even plans a half hour seminar on winter cycling to give fair weather riders a chance to experience winter pedaling.

While at "BikeWorks" yesterday, I tried to come up with a practical method of lighting my bike with Xmas lights. I asked Brett who is always in the shop if he had any ideas and he suggested that I contact Chris Chan who for sure will have his bike decked out in holiday lighting. Chris is the wizard of bike lighting and gives a course at "BikeWorks" on two wheel chariot illumination.

I did manage to come up with the "Jingle" part of the ride. I remembered riding my Trek mountain bike within the bowels of the Bulldog Tunnel on the Kettle Valley Railway and coming across a cyclist who had strapped bear bells to his pedals so that they made a constant ringing/jingling sound as he laboured uphill to the summit at the "Paulson" . I figured I could take the two bear bells off of Furry Lewis and attach them to my winter bike pedals and at least make some sort of effort to celebrate Xmas cycling.

I went to the dollar store to find those illumination sticks, bracelets or necklaces. You know - the ones that glow in the dark. I couldn't find any - they must be out of season. Why they would only be for sale in the summer when the days here are longest is beyond moi. But I did discover an idea for decorating my bike - turning it into a candy cane by wrapping white paper or cloth around the frame and then running a long red ribbon around that. I'll let you know how it goes...

I've got a Crush

2011-12-07T06:52:00.000-08:00

It never seems to fail that when you're on the bicycle trail that the thought of one particular food or drink takes hold. On this year's trip it was pie (see Sept.7th blog) from the Copper Eagle Cafe in Greenwood B.C. On this same trip when we met Butch Cassidy and he described a beer, burger and fries for 10 bucks (see August 12th blog) we couldn't wait to get to Christina Lake and chow down on that delicious sounding food.

Special Edition Crushmobile

I had to laugh when I found an abandoned orange bike in my neighbourhood and upon closer inspection discovered that it was a Hires Root Beer bike and Orange Crush labelled bike. Now this is an older Raleigh mountain bike and it weighs a ton. While it is in good shape, I discounted it as a winter bike since the 19" frame is too big for my stubby inseam.

Found abandoned

What made me laugh was the Orange Crush decal (as some people say dee-cal) which reminded me of one of our Kettle Valley Railway bike tours where my friend Roy and I got the image of an orange crush stuck in our heads. It was undoubtably hot as Roy loves to cycle in hot weather. The idea of an ice cold, sweet carbonated drink burning the back of our throats took hold of our imaginations and with each pedal stroke that took us closer to Chute Lake where we anticipated rewarding ourselves with such a fine concoction the notion lodged more firmly in our minds.

The dee-cal

And sure enough, when we arrived in Chute Lake they had ice cold cans of Orange Crush just waiting for us to quaff. You see when we're on one of our extended bike tours, it doesn't really matter what we eat and drink. Just climbing Anarchist Mountain required 5,000 calories so eating Rock Creek Cheese buns and drinking Orange Crush pop seemed a reasonable and delicious way to replace that burned up energy.

We didn't have to stop and think about buying a case of Orange Crush when we were grocery shopping for the return trip. Stuffing the cans into a large cooler full of ice and glugging them down on the way back home gave us a constant reminder of our recent trip and a little walk down memory lane since both Roy and I drank this pop when we were kids growing up.

A Sore A**

2011-12-02T07:24:00.000-08:00

On the MS bike tour there is a team called "So and So and the Sore Arses" and after winter cycling on the crappy seat that came with my winter bike, I feel I could join that particular team. Within minutes of riding, I could feel pressure not on my man bits but a piece of anatomy my daughter tells me is the coccyx.

Coccyx

Trusty Spiderflex

Another view of a great seat

I vowed that before my commute this morning, I would install my trusty Spiderflex seat that has easily 10,000 miles of comfortable riding under its belt (so to speak).

Crappy seat

And before you go - make a selection from the newly installed buttons down below: FUNNY INTERESTING INFORMATIVE MEH ?

Lycra Spandex

2011-11-29T11:19:00.000-08:00

As hard as it is to believe, some cyclists don't like Lycra Spandex! It is no stretch to say that there are two very distinct camps when it comes to cycle wear. Personally, I love the stuff. I'm not pulling your leg when I say that I have on occasion grossed out my co-workers when they've seen me wearing the stuff as I prepare to leave work.

It can be argued that Spandex has very practical applications - like how it helps the downward leg to flex down and spring back up during a pedal stroke. Or on a long ride where loose, flapping shorts will chafe your legs from constantly rubbing against the skin whereas with Lycra Spandex that never happens.

Mark Beaumont, the man listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as having cycled the world in record time, wore Lycra Spandex cycling shorts for his whole trip (he did wash them occasionally). You see all the Tour de France riders wearing form-fitting cycle wear so there must be something to it.

However, the contingent of cyclists in this town who frown on wearing Lycra Spandex for cycling feel so strongly about not wearing this material that they have named a popular cycling/jogging trail "Lycra Lane".

Tire studding tips

2011-11-25T14:22:00.000-08:00

The first shot of the video shows how I screw the studs (5/8" sheet metal screws) into the knobs of the tire from the outside first. This accomplishes two things: it creates the correct angle for the stud to protrude from the tire and it makes an easy-to-find starting hole for when you screw the stud into the knob from within the tire.

As you can see from the last shot, the studs, while not absolutely perfectly aligned, are for the most part, in two straight rows.

You may also note that I'm wearing mechanic's gloves to protect my hands from the very sharp points of the studs.

Expect the Unexpected

2011-11-24T05:46:00.000-08:00

It was with the best intentions that I wanted to bring my summer commuting bike home from work. The temperature hovered at minus 10, and for the most part the roads had been cleared of ice and snow. Perfect conditions to ride a bike home that didn't have knobby tires.

Uh oh

Within half a block I discovered that my tires, which had been leaking air for some time, needed some more air. I pulled out my handy compressed air pump and filled both tires which helped considerably. Except for hitting some brown sugar near 109 Street, I felt I had made a clever decision to ride home on an out-of-season bike.

Being eager to get this bike home (the Schwinn MOAB), I wasn't fully prepared for the windchill that assaulted my hands as I had forgotten my mitts at home. The thin pair of full fingered mountain bike gloves I was wearing offered little protection. I figured I could make it to Mountain Equipment Co-op and warm up in their lobby where I could also pull out a pair of gloves from my backpack. I hadn't pulled them out earlier because I had discovered that they were both right-handed.

Ta Da! Instant left-handed glove!

With a lot of finagling, which warmed up my fingers, I managed to turn one of the gloves inside out to wear on my left hand. MEC is used to having bikes in their lobby so I didn't stand out too much.

Crossing a bridge over a ravine, I could feel that my rear tire had gone flat and after pushing the bike to the end of the bridge where a streetlight cast an orange glow, I pulled out the compressed air pump and filled the tire once again. Within half a block it was flat again and I knew my ride home was pooched. I could have put the bike on the bike rack of a #1 bus, but I figured that I would still need to walk the bike home from the mall as the 109 bus doesn't have a bike rack.

I also ruined a fine pair of Sugoi bike shoe booties...

An hour and a half from when I started, I pulled back into the parking garage at work and vowed to be more prepared for winter commuting:
1. Make sure you have all the proper clothing.
2. If you tires have been going flat - fix them!
3. Ride the proper bike for each season.
4. Don't walk for great lengths wearing bike shoe booties

Dang!

Cycle reading

2011-11-20T11:47:00.000-08:00

Photo: Ibiketo.ca

As a volunteer at our local library I get first crack at books and audio visual materials that need to be sorted for the next book sale. The box I have set aside for choice finds is overflowing with cycling books about epic cycling adventures like the fastest cycle around the world or cycling in search of the perfect meal. My latest find is a book called Smart Cycling and just skimming through a few random pages, I found a simple explanation for setting up a rear derailleur. Or is that derailler?

To me, winter cycling is more about getting from place A to place B, so I find myself delving into the written word about cycling trips (usually in hot sunny places). It was with a lot of joy that I strutted back from the mailbox the other day when I discovered curled up in my pigeon hole the latest copy of Adventure Cyclist magazine. Splashed throughout its pages were colourful photos of cyclists enjoying the fall colours in rural USofA. I going to do some curling up myself.

The Man Who Cycled the World

2011-11-16T08:10:00.000-08:00

The Man Who Cycled the World
Mark Beaumont
Bantam Press 2009
419 pages

"After only 10km, I was exhausted. My legs were fresh but my head dropped and my eyelids started slow-blinking. The surge of adrenalin at the start had passed, and I felt shattered. The last few weeks had been a series of ridiculous and unsustainable routines that had left me completely void of energy at the outset of my 18,000 mile cycle."

So begins the tale of Mark Beaumont, a Scottish adventurist who has decided to break the Guinness World record of cycling the world which at the time stood at 276 days. As Mr. Beaumont explains "...I would have to cycle 18,000 miles, start and finish in the same place, go in one direction, and pass through two points on opposite sides of the world, among other criteria" (which included using the same bike).

Making the story even more interesting is the fact that the author has never been obsessed with cycling. His younger passions included horseback riding and skiing. It is never satisfactorily explained why he chose this particular epic and novel journey and it should be pointed out that this bike trip is a race. Which means the author never has much opportunity to stay for very long in any one place.

With his head down and eyes focused on the route in front of him, the reader never gets the impression of reading a travel book by the likes of Bill Bryson or Paul Theroux. Like Theroux portions are a repetitive litany of stats: "90m ascent, 179km, 32 degrees. 7.30 start, 8 and a half hours cycling in 11 hours and 5 mins...Really tough day. So low on energy and left calf really sore. Shit lunch and breakfast. Shouted at police escort."

At 419 pages, the book does offer a nice long, winter read, curled up in your favourite spot and dreaming of cycling adventures of your own. Cycling around the world is a remarkable achievement and for those who have made long distance cycling trips, Mr. Beaumont's journey will astound you and you will be left shaking your head in amazement that he did in fact break the Guinness World record.

Lock It or Lose It

2011-11-11T20:14:00.000-08:00

Dig it

It drives my bicycle camping friends crazy, but I lock everything up - even when we are deep in the woods as far as fifty miles from the nearest habitation. My thinking is that some backwoods jaloonie may very well mess us up by stealthily stealing our bikes while we peacefully snore the night away. As much as it disgusts us when we meet a motorized vehicle on the trail, we make sure not to hassle the drivers and anger them. They might very well live in the area and return to raid our camp.

To save weight when we're bicycle camping, I use a seven foot length of aircraft cable which I have looped at either end and then fasten the cable with a light lock. My idea being that this method, if nothing else will slow down the perps. I go so far as to hide a bear bell amongst the cable and bikes so that no matter how quiet the creeps are if they try to steal from us, the bell will ring and alert us to the potential calamity.

Cable from Home Despot

Even in my garage, I lock my bikes up using this same cable to thwart an opportunistic thief who might dash into the garage while we are working around the yard. Again, it will slow the jerk down and give pause to trying to steal one of my bikes.

Two potential winter bikes locked up in the garage

As much as my cycle camping friends scoff at the idea of locking the bikes out in the woods, I notice that they make no fuss when, after all the gear has been removed, I suggest that it is time to lock up the bikes as it is getting dark and becoming difficult to see fine work.

Studly Do-Right

2011-11-08T06:39:00.000-08:00

As the days shorten, it is only a matter of time before the snow flies and ice begins to form on our streets which means it is time to stud a pair of tires to use on this winter's commutes. And you'll find that with a minimum of mechanical expertise, it is easy to do.

The knobbier the better

The first step is to use a pair of knobby tires - the bigger the knobs the better. Using a drill, you'll want to screw 5/8"sheet metal screws into the inside of the tire. With a bit of luck, you'll end up placing the screw right into the center of one of the knobs. 50 screws per tire will do the job.

With self-tapping screws, drilling is easy

Alternate the knobs that you put the screws into otherwise you'll find that your tire will go bump,bump,bump as you ride. The ends of the screws are very sharp so handle the tires carefully. Through riding on pavement, the screws will eventually wear down to a smaller size and lose some of their sharpness. Don't worry - that wearing down won't affect their performance.

You can also use 1/2" screws

Next: Part Two - Lining the tire and mounting

Where Is That Stuff?

2011-11-05T11:08:00.000-07:00

"Furry Lewis" stripped down for MTB'ing

When the cycling season changes and we head into winter, I often find myself in the predicament of finding all my cycling gear. Have you ever found yourself in a rush to head out the door but you can't find your long fingered biking gloves? Or "Where is that helmet cover?"

What complicates things is having five bikes, two different sets of panniers, three pairs of cycling shorts, three bike tools, two compressed air inflaters, two pairs of short fingered bike gloves, one neck tube, one balaclava and...

Add to that the fact that most of the bikes are configured differently. Two mountain bikes (the MOAB and Furry Lewis) have pannier racks, but the road bike (Mississippi 'Red) and the folding bike (Foldey Hawn) don't have any kind of rack. The 1963 Triumph and the tandem both have a rack on the back but the panniers don't fit them.

So it easy to understand how I can be stumbling around the house in the morning dark trying to find my helmet cover or my winter mitts to put over my cycling gloves. I will have already looked at the outside temperature station to determine what I need to wear and if it is cold enough, I will begin my search for missing items.

I tell myself that when I get home from work, first thing I'll do is organize my stuff for the morrow but then I discover that my daughter and her boyfriend are staying for dinner and nothing has been started. My own hunger from my commute will propel me into the kitchen where I'll be grabbing vegetables and trying to find the rice since our guests are vegetarians. While I'm cooking, I tell myself that after supper I'll gather everything together but after dinner Roy calls and we spend the rest of the evening planning next year's bicycle camping trip and then...

Critical Miss

2011-11-01T06:19:00.000-07:00

Maybe it was the near zero temperatures that kept most cyclists away, but when I showed up at Silly Hall there were only six other hardy cyclists there waiting for more people to show up to do the "Critical Mass".

Forgetting it was Halloween time, I was unprepared for some of the riders wearing costumes. One guy (see photo) had Zombie makeup and his friend Steve had blackened his eyes (or maybe he'd been in an altercation) and Lee, who had recently ridden his bike here from NYC, shrugged on a clown suit that he had purchased for five bucks at Villue Vallage.

Mr. Zombie,Mr.South America and Steve with 2 black eyes

My experience in the past on these rides has been to ride near the front. Reason being that if you ride right in the front, you have to make important decisions that affect everyone especially those riding in the rear. Do we go through this red light? Can we all make this advanced green? When is the best time to change lanes so that it is safe for everyone?

If you ride in the very rear, then you might have to tolerate impatient drivers who are honking their horns or provocatively driving close to your rear tire. As far as I'm concerned the best spot is close to the front where you can easily follow their lead. If they decide to turn left on a yellow, you can put the pedal to the metal and charge after them. If they suddenly decide to stop, then you can brake as well.

As we rode along Jasper Avenue, I reflected on something my friend Anne had mentioned about her last Critical Mass ride. As she had pointed out, it is liberating to ride at a leisurely pace on a major traffic artery. Waving to pedestrians rushing home from work, ringing our bells at the "Occupy" occupiers who shouted encouragement to us as we cycled past their camp. It has been a long two years since I have ridden with this group and I found it to be quite novel experience.

Wowzers!

A quick vote was taken at the red light at 109 Street and we all decided to take the western lane of the High Level Bridge. By the time we had reached that trestled structure, we were fifteen riders strong and had a terrific ride across the bridge. I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. When do you ever get to cross the High Level except by motorized transportation?

Riding down Whyte Ave elicited many hoots and whoo yoos from costumed revellers already into the Halloween spirit(s). I found myself in the rear somehow and rationalized that it was important to ride in every position in the pack.

Before I spun away to head off to work, I enjoyed watching a black bearded, long haired clown holding up traffic and signalling us to make the left turn toward Gazebo Park. That sight made my Halloween for me.

Spokeconfusion

2011-10-28T06:19:00.000-07:00

In an effort to learn as much as I can about repairing bikes, I signed up for a wheel building course at "Bikeworks". Gathered around me were seven other enthusiasts who seemed to grasp the very complicated instructions necessary to determine what parts are needed to build a wheel.

Oh sure, I was okay at the beginning of the class when it came to asking questions like "In this example you're passing around, why is one nipple bigger than the other?" Or "The longer it gets - the harder it gets?" - spokes that is. But when our fine instructor Axel got down to the nitty-gritty of "SPOKE CALCULATION" that's when my eyes began to glaze over and I knew then that I shouldn't have dropped math as soon as I could in high school (grade eleven for those of you who care).

I looked around at the twenty-somethings and they were all nodding in understanding (except for the guy next to me who had fallen asleep and was snoring gently). My friends Rob, Alex and Coreen were asking intelligent questions and making clever observations while I stared at my notebook and tried to make sense of my nearly illegible scrawl: on rims with a deep V-cross section, using hexagonal nipples, tensioning up to 2,000N can be carried out
Or this doozie: fewer spokes reduce weight and improve aerodynamic properties, but need to be given a higher tension, which on the other hand, require more, stable, and thus
heavier rims....
Glancing at my notes again, I couldn't fathom what I had written only moments before:
NTN=581(2)
(2)N-14.8X=29
595X2
600.6

I'm so glad that Alex and Coreen were there to help my class partner Rob and I to do the actual spoke calculation for the wheels we were going to build. In fact, the two of them seemd so non-plussed that I'm confident that with them at my side at next week's class I might just be able to build a wheel that won't collapse the moment someone climbs onto the bike that has my hand-made wheels.

Bits and Pieces

2011-10-25T13:45:00.000-07:00

As you are riding your bike you see them everywhere. On the side of the road. Wedged underneath a hedge. Carelessly tossed to the curb. Lying on a sidewalk.

I'm talking about the many pieces of flotsam and jetsam that we see everyday yet ignore to such a degree that they hardly register in our minds. This season (from last snow melt to first snowfall) I decided to pick up these various items and see what sort of collection I would have at the end.

For the most part, the hardhat and tools came from a training session for the MS Tour (see "It's a Goldmine!" - June 7th post). The two toned golf shoe I picked up on a rainy ride down to the south side of the city to meet my wife for dinner. The blue plastic pedometer I found on swanky Ada Boulevard (see "The Flowers That Bloom in the Spring Tra-La" - May1st. post). The peep-show SEX coin was discovered on a Saturday ride downtown - not far from the seedy part of the downtown core.

The creepy doll's head escapes my memory but the pink plastic monkey I distinctly recall finding in the sandy dirt at the overnight campsite that Perry and I chose in preparation for the Kettle Valley Railway (see "That Wasn't So Bad" - July 18th post). The boxcutter was near a bus stop not far from my house and the dog tag I found at Terwilligar Park on one of the Fridays I took off so I could train for the MS Mountain Tour (see "Running of the Bulls" - August 26th post).

I suspect that this inclination I have to pick things up and bring them home stems from my misguided youth when I used to bring home (to my parents chagrin) all manner of junk that I had found. The worst was finding a downed aircraft from WW2 while on a church camp hike and carting home a suitcase full of airplane parts. Come to think of it - I still have a couple of pieces that I found at that camp. If I could have found a way to strap a longboard skateboard that I found recently to my pannier rack, I'd have that to show you.

Doing The City's Work

2011-10-21T14:56:00.000-07:00

Riding my 1963 Triumph on a recent Sunday, I was reminded once again that Saturday nights must get pretty wild in this town. Judging from the number of broken liquor and beer bottles littering the road and presenting a hazard to cyclists and their thin tires.

On my next commute along with my two panniers, I want to strap on a broom and dustpan and a pair of garden shears to my back rack. The broom and dustpan to sweep up the hazardous shards of glass and the shears to cut away the many branches especially on 102 Avenue near the museum that threaten to send cyclists careening into traffic as they whap the rider's face as they pass.

To be safe, I'll also need to pack some of those fluorescent traffic cones and a mesh vest with reflective stripes. Of course I'll want a sturdy sign which I will place down the road a piece warning motorists that the lane ahead will narrow.

I imagine that the city will be quite pleased at the work I plan to do to make this a much safer city for all its citizens and I'm confident that all the motorists commuting west along 102 Avenue won't mind a short delay on their way home. In fact, I'll call my favourite radio station and advise them of the impending lane narrowing and assure their listeners that the work is necessary and will be finished in enough time that they can still make the couch in time to watch their favourite TV shows.

Of Bikes and Men

2011-10-19T04:29:00.000-07:00

Our tour guide Abraham assured us that not many people ride bikes in Taipei because of the danger from other traffic (most notably scooters). Yet I couldn't walk down a sidewalk anywhere in the city without some schlub pootling past on a pedal bike. Or a mother with her little one crammed in front of her grasping the handlebars or a father with a youngster clinging tightly to his back.

The jade market

What I really wanted to see was one of those bikes that is stuffed to overflowing with plastic milk jugs or so covered in such an unbelievable load that you can't imagine how they can stay upright. Pity the poor person carrying one of those loads on their bike and they get a flat. I did pass one fellow with a flat pushing his bike quite a distance and I never saw anyone carrying a pump.

Sort of what I was looking for

I'm not used to seeing anyone set up shop right on the street so I was surprised when I found the area where bikes are sold; a sidewalk repair facility. Quite busy too - a man and a woman working on one bike, a commuter connecting a compressed air hose to his bike and a man wearing a shop apron making adjustments to a new Giant.

On a per capita basis, maybe Abraham was right - not that many Taiwanese ride bikes. During the countless subway rides we took, not once did I ever see someone with their bike in the subway car. Yet when we stopped in San Francisco on the way back home and took the short jaunt into downtown from the airport and back, I made note of four bikes just in the two cars we travelled in.

San Fran subway

Tamsui Louie

2011-10-16T09:12:00.000-07:00

Exiting the subway at the end of the line at Tamsui, my ears were assaulted by a static-filled, strident voice screeching "ADARIPAFENDDADIDERATERAKATAY" over and over. As I got closer to the noise I could see that someone had ingeniously held down the trigger of a megaphone and hooked it up to a recording device. Looking away from the fly-blown, deep-fried GOD KNOWS WHAT that the auto-megaphone advertised, I spied a pink tandem being hoisted onto a rust stained passenger ferry. Fearing that the ship would depart without my finding out where the tandem was headed I soon found myself a passenger of said ship.

Said ship

Sitting next to me on the boat was a fellow decked out in short shorts and a sleeveless tee shirt. Slung over one shoulder was a plastic bag which I imagined carried all his worldly possessions. I guessed at this because he reminded me of a man we see wandering our downtown streets and while he appears to be harmless, we give him a wide berth especially on the days when he wears a jock strap on the outside of his shorts.

In less than ten minutes I discovered that by crossing the Dansui River, I had stumbled upon the Riverside Bikeway - part of the redevelopment of the Taipei County waterfront. Just steps away from the ferry dock a large jumble of bicycles caught my eye and after much sign language and pidgin English the old store owner and I agreed that with plunking down $1.50 on the counter, I could be entrusted for two hours with his shiny silver Narida commuter bike.

The Narida

Heading off in pursuit of the pink tandem which by this time had disappeared down the paved bike path, I found myself following the river, riding past white Cranes busily spear diving for fish and and large pleasure boats bobbing on the waves from the ferry traffic. In spite of the rusted chain, the bike was surprisingly quiet except whenever I engaged either brake lever in which case the bike would let out a loud howl. At least now I didn't need a horn or a bell to warn of my approach.

Mr. T. Louie

The combination of full sun and high humidity prevented me from riding too far from the ferry dock and after consulting my trusty map I decided that a distant bridge would be a likley place to turn around. I had no idea how he got there before me but as I rode under the bridge, who should I see lounging in the shade but my seat mate from the ferry who I had dubbed Tamsui Louie. I quickly turned around and made for the bike shop with the hope that I would make it to the dock and not have to share a seat with him again. For all I knew he had some ADARIPAFENDADIDERATERAKATAY in that bag of his.

A Whole Different World

2011-10-12T16:18:00.000-07:00

Cycling in Taipei has a whole different meaning than in North America. In my time here in the nation's capital, I've seen only two recreational cyclists. I came across them lounging on the patio at a Starbucks at the end of the subway line at Tamsui. It wasn't their expensive road bikes that gave them away but their loud jerseys and colourful spandex shorts which none of the cyclists I'd seen to this point had been wearing.

Shotgun?

The many thousands of other cyclists use bicycles as their main transportation - often with another person riding shotgun on a narrow pad affixed to the rear pannier rack. The rack itself must be designed to hold much more weight than the racks we use. Mine are only rated to hold fifty pounds.

I came across many other bikes that have been manufactured with an added seat post placed between the main seat and the handlebars. Probably for a small child to sit on. One bike appeared to have been adapted for another passenger with what appeared to be an accessory seat post that was simply bolted onto the downtube.

In a city of three million, it is surprising how few bikes can be spotted and as our tour guide Abraham pointed out - riding a bike on the very congested streets is a very dangerous undertaking. Even riding a scooter, of which there appears be tens of thousands is a suicidal act given the number of cars, trucks and buses clogging every street.

A small minority

Mr. Dressup

2011-10-08T18:32:00.000-07:00

My twin is always wondering what it is that makes my children want to dress up. Both of my offspring have been members of the Knights of the Northern Realm, have taken sword fighting lessons and have sewn elaborate costumes to wear at special events.

Ms. Elizabethan?

My daughter dated a very creative fellow who makes his own fantastic outfits, knives, belts and such. My son was married in Gimli wearing traditional Viking garb and still goes to the Icelandic Festival there every year to live in the Viking Village (not Value Village) and to sell handmade jewellery.

Mr. Viking

My own quest for costuming began last June when I knew I was going to join the Shakespeare Ride and wanted to dress as an English cyclist. Being a first generation Chirper what did I know about these things? Not being one to enjoy trying on clothes, I was frustrated in my search of the Antique Mall and just about every thrift store in the city. I mean just how many jackets with sleeves hanging to the floor, sport coats with armpit stains and suit coats with questionable seams can one man try on?

I was happy to note that the reason 38 short jackets weren't fitting me anymore was because of the 2 inches of chest size that I have added since taking up cycling on a more serious basis. Once I realized I needed a 40 inch jacket, my luck began to change and I found an ensemble at the GW Boutique (GoodWill) that would do just fine.

My recent adventure into dressing for the Tweed Ride proves that my children come by their need to dress up honestly.

Tweed Indeed

2011-10-04T16:27:00.000-07:00

Having checked the forecast in the morning and discovered that the weather was predicted to be clear, I was surprised to find myself riding in the rain on my way over to the "Quad" at the university to join in the Tweed ride.

Following the vague directions that I had been given earlier I arrived at the Quad to discover that I was the only cyclist in attendance. I rode the perimeter of the quadrangle and still seeing no other bikes, decided to lean my bike against a handy Teepee and seek shelter from the rain under its canvas skin. While admiring all the mold growing on the canvas walls, I began to doubt that I had the correct day. This wouldn't be the first time when juggling a lot of balls that I have shown up to an event bright-eyed and bushy-tailed only to be embarrassed to discover I was at the event a week early or a few days late.

In spite of being under cover, a shower of rain still fell in an ever widening circle inside the teepee and I was glad when Brett, one of the bike co-op's board members arrived and showed me how to close the rain flaps at the top of the tent. We only had to stand around making small talk and smelling of wet wool for a short time before the sun came out and made a beautiful rainbow. It was then that all the other participants made their fashionable entrance.

I thought I had figured out my tweed outfit quite well until most the men pulled out pipes and some of the ladies pulled cigars from their many layers of clothing. I was further chagrined when a large number of flasks were brought out from their hiding places beneath skirts and from within vest pockets. I soon discovered that a tweed ride is mostly a social event and I had to ask the mutton - chopped rider next to me if we were actually going to ride anywhere. He assured me that a route was just being planned and that we would be on our way shortly as he took a long pull on his Cohiba.

Not far into the ride we could see crowd of Lycra-Spandex riders approaching our wool clad conga line. A clash of cultures if you will. Both groups stopped to talk and it was amusing to hear the fellow next to me and his imaginary conversation (with an upper crust English accent) "I say, people of the future - what is that strange material you are wearing? Your bicycles appear to be made from a substance we have never seen. And those hard caps you have donned on your heads - what on earth are they for?"

Culture clash

With the sun shining on the golden aspen leaves and the temperature rising, we had an easy ride downhill to the new bridge where there was quite a debate about the symbolic design of the structure. Most of us were happy just to peer into the clear waters of the river and some speculated that the large sandbar south of the bridge would make an excellent beach for sunbathing.

Tweed Ride

2011-10-02T09:35:00.000-07:00

This afternoon a tweed ride is planned leaving from the Quad at the university and try as I might, I can't find the place. Every student I asked seemed to know where the place is and with a vague toss of the hand would point me in the direction of the Student Union building. No one could say definitively where I might find a place whose name sounded more like a motorized vehicle suited to the outdoors than a meeting place for cyclists.

At lunchtime on Thursday I could be found locked in a thrift store change room trying on a number of pants. And these weren't just any type of pant. Earlier I had googled "Tweed Ride" and a baffling range of images presented themselves on the computer screen facing me. Cyclists decked out in Sherlock Holmes hats variously called Deerstalkers or banana hats or even umbrella hats. Men wearing knickerbocker pants, women having donned herringbone vests and everyone cycling old school bikes with leather panniers and Brooks saddles.

Not being able to find plus fours anywhere in the city I had sheepishly slunk over to the women's clothing section of said thrift store and gathered up a number of muted capri pants in what I guessed might be a size to fit a man with a 32 inch waist. Feeling ridiculous and wanting to hasten the act of trying on women's clothing, I neglected to remove my walking shoes and putting my foot through the tapered leg of a thick wool capri my balance shifted and my full body weight slammed into the flimsy door of the change room as I tumbled to the floor. Since the door of the dressing room didn't reach all the way to the floor, I could hear startled gasps from the other side from customers waiting for a room to come free.

With the most dignity I could muster I exited the change room clutching a wadded ball of pants and as I passed the lineup, shrugged and announced "Halloween!" hoping that would assure the waiting customers that I wasn't a cross-dressing, middle-aged crisis prone creepo.

It is said that luck is simply when opportunity and preparation meet and when I found the men's suit rack after ditching the ball of capris, a fine, muted herringbone tweed jacket called to me and after checking its fit in the aisle, was happy to leave the store eleven dollars poorer. But happy not to be explaining to a police officer what I might have been up to in that dressing room.

You Don't Want To Be A Groom In Bridesville

2011-09-29T10:55:00.000-07:00

We had finished Anarchist Mountain east of Osoyoos and Roy's GPS device told him that he had burned 5,000 calories climbing that edifice. I can only imagine how many I burned what with all the crashing, bruising and cursing I did on my painful slog to the summit. Which as Roy kept reminding me was not where I thought it was.

While we were intent on making Rock Creek where we planned to camp for the night, we felt we had earned a break and since for the most part, it was downhill from the summit of Anarchist to Rock Creek, we thought we could spare the time to explore the first town we happened upon - Bridesville.

Sweeping vistas

The last thing I would want to do is insult the citizens of this burg but as much as we looked, there did not seem to be one redeeming feature of the place. Having once been on a very important railway, this was probably once a bustling town. You know what I mean - wild salloons, gunfights on dusty streets, romantic intrigues. Probably had 6 hotels, 2 livery stables, 3 competing hardware stores, a blacksmith shop and a brothel (one floor of the Hotel British California). Like many of the abandoned towns in B.C., there is not nothing to see there today. For example, this year we stopped at Eholt and had a small picnic at a wide spot in the trail. The only indication that a town had once existed there was a commemorative plaque. We couldn't even find the foundations described on the historic tablet.

Postcard Views

Roy and I ventured into a swaybacked house to inspect the garage sale advertised out on the street. The husband and wife who lived there would have looked perfectly normal standing out front of their dwelling each of them clutching a pitchfork. There was nothing for sale that interested us unless we had a use for rusty scrub pads, a bedpan with chipped enamel, a worn flourescent green office chair and such. In one of the bedrooms, I did find something of interest although it was not something I could take with me - a curious method of attaching a shelf to a wall. Some ingenious schlub had bent two tin cans, one looked like a juice can and the other a no name brand of something gross like canned mushrooms, nailed them to the wall and then balanced a board on top. Like I say, ingenious.

Ingenious

I had forgotten about the experience and it was only the other day when I was quaffing some spring water and, as is my habit to read while I eat and drink, I nearly sprayed with bottled water the innocent patron sitting next to me at the lunch counter when I discovered the fine print on the label proudly declared that this particular water came from you guessed it. Bridesville.

Even the post office had given up on this place

British California Pie

2011-09-27T15:21:00.000-07:00

Cherry Rhubarb pie

It is never me that starts the whole pie thing. Usually on one of our long trips, we will be stopped on the trail for some reason and Roy will lick his lips and say something like "Yummm. Pie! With ice cream!!" While I don't think it has any effect on me at the time, I'll notice as I pedal down the trail and the repetition of pedaling, steering and shifting once again become automatic, the idea of a piece of pie begins to take hold in my mind. If I was to have a piece of pie - what kind would I choose? My favourite - cherry? What if they don't have any? Would apple pie do? Ice cream on top? Chocolate?

So that little vocalization of Roy's begins to latch onto my brain cells and is usually buttressed by our third cycling companion. Two years ago I could hear Richard and Roy up ahead of me excitedly discussing the merits of pie and just how many slices they would each have at the next town. This year it was Perry enthusiastically extolling the virtues of that delectable dessert. As I rode through their comments I recalled a passage from Bil Bryson's "A Walk in the Woods": ...Everyone on the trail dreams of something, usually a sweet, and my sustaining vision had been an outsized slab of pie. It had occupied my thoughts for days and when the waitress came to take our order I asked her, with beseeching eyes and a hand on her forearm, to bring me the largest piece she could slice without losing her job. She brought me a vast, viscous, canary-yellow wedge of lemon pie. It was a monument to food technology, yellow enough to give you a headache, sweet enough to make your eyeballs roll up into your head - everything, in short, you could want in a pie...

The above should put to rest the question that is so frequently asked: "Why does pie figure so prominently in cycling stories?"

Judgement Day

2011-09-25T22:39:00.000-07:00

You can just see the top of Perry's tent

Along with my cycling partners Roy and Perry, we had enjoyed a lovely day in the town of Midway, B.C. Camping on the pleasant banks of the Kettle River reminded me not to judge a book by its cover. I don't know how many times I've passed Midway on the Crowsnest Highway and never once had the urge to pull over and check out the dusty gas station or feel any desire to look through the windows of the vacant store. But just beyond the highway towards the American border is a lovely park with an historic hotel across the way and a fully stocked hardware store across the street that reminded me of general stores of my youth with their oiled wooden floors and dry goods hanging from the ceiling.

In its day, Midway was quite the place and as the meeting point of two competing railways was the site of the"Battle of Midway" - long before the sea battle of the Second World War.

While Roy and I dawdled at the highway gas station, Perry had gone ahead and arranged the best campsite I've ever pitched my tent at in all my years of riding the KVR. Ample flat grass for the 3 tents, a firepit and probably the best feature: a wooden gazebo with bench seating all around its inner circumference, a solid roof and counter space for cooking and eating. Top all this off with a clear flowing river just down a short path and you have nirvana (not the band).

The very practical gazebo

They say don't judge a book by its cover and if camping at this lovely municipal park taught me anything it is to explore possiblilties that in my usual haste to pass judgement, hurts only myself.

If It's Broke Then Fix It

2011-09-22T08:52:00.000-07:00

The offending chain

At a recent seminar on bicycle camping, I neglected to mention the importance of checking out all your gear before you head out adventure cycling.

Here we were, first thing in the morning back on the Kettle Valley Railway, having spent three days riding from Castlegar, taking a day off and now back on the trail with Grand Forks as our destination. My two cycling friends, Perry and Roy were in their usual spot way ahead of me when I needed to lift myself up a steep part of the trail. In cockiness (born of 4,300 miles of saddle time this season), I downshifted my rear gears and then stupidly downshifted the front gears at the same time. With a swiftness that surprised me, the bike and 40 pounds of crapola strapped to it came to a sudden and complete stop. The left crank was immovable in its uppermost position and, still attached to the bike, I fell over as in a cartoon.

Upon inspection, I soon discovered that not only was the chain bound firmly in the front crankset, but broken as well. My cycling partners were just disappearing around a corner maybe a quarter of a mile ahead of me when I had the foresight to fumble in my handlebar bag for my whistle. It is a little known fact that with a whistle, you can make a louder sound than you can shout (or in my case I wanted to scream). But to no avail. Roy in his advanced age couldn't hear the sharp report of the whistle and Perry because he was so far ahead was too far away to catch the sound.

Roy and Perry in their usual spots

Donning my disposable mechanic gloves, I did what any sensible bike camper would do. I slumped to the ground and began to pout. Just kidding. I took everything off the bike such as: my water bottles, heartrate monitor, sleeping bag, Thermarest, tent, panniers etc. And then proceeded to turn the bike upside down so that I could get at the broken chain. Half a link was missing and I walked back down the trail to find it. The other half of the link was twisted enough to be unusable. All the while giving two blasts on the whistle to try and contact my friends.

As it was early on a Saturday morning, the town of Midway was just beginning to wake up. A pickup pulled into the gas station to fill up, a young boy was throwing newspapers from his bike which were smartly landing on front steps. If it wasn't for my unhappy predicament, I would have enjoyed watching the town wake up as the sun began to burn off the morning mist.

Eventually my friends, full of concern, returned and thank God, Roy had had the foresight to pack a spare set of "Quick Links" in his repair kit. I had been dragging a pair around the Kettle Valley for the last four years and in a misguided attempt to save weight had decided this year to leave them at home. With a lot of luck (and removing some other links), we were back on the trail within an hour and a half.

I felt foolish that I hadn't checked over my bike thoroughly and done a simple task like inspecting my chain with my handy-dandy Filzer chain checker. I had a seminar to present in two weeks and what was I going to say about this? There's always the old axiom: "For the person who feels they must always tell the truth - there's one other option: Silence".

My two friends, in a touching gesture, rode one in front of me and one on my rear wheel until I implored them to go ahead since I like riding in the rear and being able to watch them chase off dogs and dodge wildlife since they are in the lead after all.

The Champeen

2011-09-19T17:53:00.000-07:00

Everyone has their own reason for signing up for the Ms Tour. I would imagine that their reasons have a lot to do with MS. I think of my friend Heather who has had MS for pretty much the whole of the thirty years I've known her.

After checking in and making our way to our room, the elevator door opened to reveal two middle-aged women who at the sight of us remarked "We remember you from last year!". I gave them a baleful look and for the life of me could not place them. I worried that perhaps I had been rude to them or offended them last year in some way as we rode up to our respective rooms.

It wasn't until breakfast the next day when we saw the two women dining that we realized that when we met them last year, they were accompanying their husbands who were doing the MS Mountain Tour for the first time. While scarfing down breakfast we swapped tales of last year's debacle and marvelled at the prospect of sunny and warm temperatures this year.

I was amazed to discover that one of the men, John, had travelled all the way from Huntsville, Ontario to complete the 8 kilometers that he couldn't finish last year. He had run out of gas at the last rest stop and was here this weekend to finish the tour. That is not to say that John was simply going to travel to the last rest stop and pedal from there. From the look of determination on his face, I could tell that this was a man with a mission. This man was going all the way.

And to add icing to the cake, John had raised $2,000.00 for the cause.

Are We There Yet?

2011-09-18T06:40:00.000-07:00

We could see our breath as we patiently waited for all the speeches to conclude and the MS Mountain Tour to begin. In my impatience, I have to remind myself that we are here to raise money for a very worthwhile cause and that it's not just about cycling.

I know that in a few minutes, the organizers will let us go in groups of 10 and that there will be lots of jockeying for position as we charge out of the gate. As riders continue to pass me, I remind myself that this is a tour not a race. This is supposed to be a comforting thought but doesn't comfort me as another participant shouts "On Your Left!" as they pass me. I look over to discover that this particular rider is the same one I labelled as a couch potato in a recent blog. Even his commuter bike is a faster ride than "Furry Lewis" (my TREK).

There is no need to rush. I know that just up ahead about 3 kilometers is a water - filled ditch with a turn to the right that every year becomes congested with cyclists as inevitably someone spills into the muddy ditch and everyone else piles up behind that unlucky soul. Some will have stopped to offer assistance but most of the riders, given half a chance will skirt around the site and continue on their merry way.

Liking a bit of solitude in the mountains and enjoying the sunny weather, my favourite time of the tour is after lunch when you know that you're already half way and your belly is full of a healthy lunch but more importantly, the participants in the tour are spread out and there is a lot of opportunity to be alone in the woods. You can even stop and enjoy being in the mountains on a beautiful, sunny, almost fall afternoon.

Trail Silliness

2011-09-16T20:32:00.000-07:00

As I mentioned in an earlier blog, we found that using the Tikka light which you strap to your forehead, helps you to navigate in the dark when camping...

My buddy Perry, on our KVR trip made me laugh everytime that he would say TIKKA TIKKA TIKKA TIKKA in a falsetto voice that reminded me of the 1963 song Dominique by the Singing Nuns. Which inspired me to create my own version of their lyrics:

Tikka Tikka Tikka Tikka

It's the light for you and me

It shines so darn brightly

You should get one for yourself

They are sitting on the shelf

Of your local M-E-C

When they hear of all the fuss

People stop and wonder why

If you turn the light on

Make sure it's not in their eye!

Tikka Tikka Tikka Tikka

It's the light for you and me

It shines so darn brightly

You should get one for yourself

They are sitting on the shelf at your local M-E-C

It's a very useful light

And you'll like it on your head

It's especially helpful

As you stumble off to bed

Tikka Tikka Tikka Tikka

It's the light for you and me

It shines so darn brightly

You should get one for yourself

They are sitting on the shelf

At your local M-E-C

What's In A Name?

2011-09-14T07:04:00.000-07:00

The MS Mountain Tour wrapped up on Sunday and thanks to all the pledges received, the event raised over $330,000.00 to help defeat MS. That is nearly $1,000.00 per entrant and when you consider how difficult the tour itself is, I'm always surprised when some riders tell me that raising the donations is harder than the ride itself. My favourite method is to offer bicycle tune-ups in exchange for a minimum $25.00 donation.

A person can always do the tour as an individual or as a team member. I've done the tour both ways and belonging to a team is much more fun. Although I must say that with the team I belong to - "Mike's Wheels of Justice (the forked-up version)", I rarely see my team mates except when I show up on both days and they are set up right at the start line, with the pink ribbon stretching across their proud chests and I'm showing up what I consider to be early and having to put my bike at the back of the pack. Oh, I could join them at the front but I know that in no time at all, they'll be out of sight.

My team mates all rarin' to go

The name of our team strikes a certain resonance with me as most people know me as "Mike". My wife and children call me Mike, my neighbours know me as Mike and my extended families call me Mike. So the team name rings a bell as it were. I get a kick out of the team names that are often emblazoned across the front and back of jerseys. "Chain Gang" is a good one.   A ladies team called the "Menstrucycles". Or the "Handlebar Moustaches", "So and So and the Sore Arses", "Double Track Slackers" or my favourite - "The Bad Apples" - a team who studied nutrition together at the U of A. They always have apple emblems made from craft foam somewhere on their persons or on their bikes and they all look like they're having a swell time.

To quote the David Wilcox song: Some people call me a bad apple
                                                        Well I might be bruised but I still taste sweet
                                                         Some people call me a bad apple
                                                         But I might be the sweetest apple on the tree!

Mountain Tour Update

2011-09-12T04:51:00.000-07:00

Stay Tuned! Stories to follow about this year's MS Hinton Bike Tour......

Almost Showtime

2011-09-07T06:56:00.000-07:00

Instructions before climbing "The Hill"

In the upper reaches of Terwilligar Park the trees and bushes have a slight discolouration on their leaf tips yet the evenings are warm and dry. The high heat of summer has dissipated and now we are experiencing milder temperatures. My kind of riding conditions.

A group of ten of us have decided to give up this Tuesday evening to train for the MS Mountain Tour. We're a varied lot. A mixture of men and women. Fitness and equipment levels from coach potato with a commuter bike to our supreme leader Stew - a hale and hearty 60 something with a brand new full suspension mountain bike. After a few minutes of riding, I discover that most of the participants seem to be in way better shape than me and can climb steep, lengthy hills without breaking a sweat while I slowly huff and puff my way to the top.

After a long warm-up, Stew stops at the bottom of "The Hill". A sudden incline with only a very short, flat ramp to use to build up speed. On an earlier attempt last week, I managed to claw my way three quarters of the way up and as the group watched from the top, my right foot snapped out of its cleat and I lost all forward impetus and began an undignified slide back to the bottom of the hill. As I began rolling backwards I swear I saw one of the younger riders above me smirking with an expression that said "Too bad old man. Maybe you should have brought your electric cart!".

Never being one to know when to stop, I set my bike up at the end of the ramp and waited for another opportunity to publicly demoralize myself. I calculated that if I started three or four gears up from my lowest gear and then as the trail disappeared beneath my churning wheels, quickly down-shifted, I would not only have the forward speed necessary, but also be in the lowest gear to grind my way to the top. My team mates would shout and cheer as I crested the hill and rode my proud way into their honoured ranks.

A pebble the size of an Easter egg. That's all it took to arrest my second attempt. Seven eighths the way up as my pedals churned furiously, my forward speed was so slow that when the stone presented itself under my front wheel, that was it. I stopped as though I had struck a concrete wall. I could hear the shouts of encouragement fading as I coasted backward down the hill and my team mates shrunk in size as the distance increased.

I think I could just make out the smirker bent over double laughing as the group faded from view.

And we've got a Schwinner!

2011-09-02T06:33:00.000-07:00

Through very good happenstance I've come into possession of a Schwinn MOAB which at the outset doesn't seem so exciting. The Schwinns that are made today don't have the same quality of the earlier models and as far as I know they don't even produce the MOAB anymore.

What is exciting is that except for the frame size, this is the exact same bike that my cycling buddy Roy uses for mountain biking. Now my friend Roy always buys the best quality that he can afford and when he got the Schwinn 12 or so years ago, it was a $1,200.00 bike back then. The quality of the bike is so high that he claims to still be using the same chain, front chainring and rear cassette.

As much as I love Furry Lewis, I've been straying and looking elsewhere - mostly to find an affordable way to reduce the weight of the bike - to make it sub-thirty (pounds). I've been to see Mitch in the parts department at United Cycle and he offered a few suggestions - like a lighter front suspension and/or lighter wheels. He talked to me about rotational weight which was a new concept for me and an enthusiastic customer tried to convince me to spend even more and get tubeless rims/tires.

What I really wanted was to get my hands on a Schwinn MOAB. It is a fine bike and weighs less than 30 pounds. And that is when the stars aligned and I got a message from my friend Alex over at "Bikeworks" that one had become available. Since I was planning a 65K. ride anyway (to try to get ready for the KVR), I made my way over to the "shop" found the MOAB, adjusted the seat and hit the bricks. After paying for it of course.

So once again, I've added another bike to my stable of wheeled fun - let's see - there's the MOAB, Furry Lewis, Foldy Hawn, Mississippi 'Red, the Triumph English 3 speed, a crappy blue frame that will become my winter bike, a donated mountain bike that I'll sell and use the funds to finance the next MS Tour and then.......

The Running of the Bulls

2011-08-26T18:58:00.000-07:00

The Gully

With every visit to Terwilligar Park, I look for a steep gully that if you choose to, you can ride down it at breakneck speed only to be jerked into an almost straight up and down position moments later and then fly through the air and land on a patch of turf no bigger than your average throw rug. The last time I rode throught the park I had no trouble finding it but today, perhaps because of the thick vegetation, it was hidden from me. When I find it again, I'm sure that I will carreen down its steep bank and shoot up the other side many, many times. I have yet to tire from the thrill of flying throught the air with the greatest of ease.

It was on my way out of the park as I cruised along some smooth, dry double track that I spied two dogs coming around a slight bend in the trail. A medium sized pit bull and following on its tail a huge brown and black bulldog. With one glance at me, they charged at full tilt and crossed the 20 meters separating us in seconds flat. In my panicked state, I was lucky to remember some advice from Coreen F., a fellow blogger and devoted bike mechanic who told me of a similar situation where you want to get off the bike and put it between you and the dog(s). Normally I dismount on the non-drive side of the bike but this time, given the dog's speed and their direction, I got off on the drive side and got ready to fend off the mangy curs.

Lunge after lunge I twarted as their foaming mouths snapped inches away from my legs. Their loud barks and glistening white fangs did nothing to alleviate my mood of desperate terror. I had my left hand on my seat and the right on my handlebars which allowed me to use the bike like a matador's cape and dodge each ferocious charge.

The medium sized dog soon gave up the fight to go sniff some dog poo in the bushes lining the trail and it took two more florishes with the "cape" to convince the bulldog that he wasn't going to enjoy one of my body parts on this particular day. The owner (I would have said master except this person had no mastery of the two mangy mongrels) passed by without so much as an apology and when I suggested that she needed to control her dogs, she acted as though I was some disease ridden character who had crawled out from under a nearby rock. I could only shake my head at this reminder that dogs and bikes don't always mix.

Take It Or Leave It

2011-08-22T11:09:00.000-07:00

TAKE NOTHING BUT PICTURES - LEAVE NOTHING BUT TIRE TRACKS

We Meet Butch Cassidy

2011-08-12T20:23:00.000-07:00

Exiting the "Mines of Moria" Photo: Kenneth Roy

A gaggle of twenty geese splash landed on the elbow of water we were camped next to in Castlegar. Their thrashing and honking woke us up out of the fitful sleeps we had been having because of the loud drumming of rain on the metal roof of the picnic shelter above our heads.

After a brief conference over breakfast, we rode through the outskirts of Castlegar and stopped on a highway bridge to take in the beautiful scenery all around us. Beautiful if you liked the plume of smoke rising off in the distance from the nearby pulp mill and the stench of wet paper permeating every breath you inhaled. Having said that, we wouldn't be here but for the mill as it appears that the biggest economic activity in this valley is the pulp and paper industry.

Beautiful No? Photo: Roy C.

We rode all day through alternating bands of rain and warm sunlight as we ascended the 52 klicks to the summit at Farron. So it was a matter of stopping to put on rain gear only a little while later to take it off and then to stop and....

On again off again on againoff again on again off again

Just before entering the longest tunnel on this whole railway, we ran into four cyclists - a grandfather from Montreal, a twenty something guy and girl and a young boy who excitedly asked us if we had seen "The Lord of the Rings" and that the tunnel up the trail was just like the "Mines of Moria"!

The white minerals leaching onto the tunnel walls did give the dark tunnel an eerie feeling and it was easy to imagine being in "Middle Earth". All we needed was Golum riding a bike beside us chanting "My Precious" to make it real.

It was a relatively easy pedal down the 2% grade to Lafferty where we made camp in a much improved backwoods campsite that included an outhouse, picnic tables, flat spots for our tents and a firepit. While Perry constructed a blazing fire, Roy and I spotted someone walking down the trail toward our camp. It turned out to be a friendly local named Cassidy out walking his two dogs - a bloodhound and a Heinz 57. According to "Butch" Cassidy, the dog of 57 varieties was the better hunter and Cassidy regaled us with tales of his experiences living in the back country.

Roy looks like he was caught with his hands in the cookie jar

Before leaving us, he suggested that we stop in Christina Lake the next day and take in burgers, fries and a beer for 10 bucks at Christina Lake Village where he worked. Knowing how hungry we would be after biking down to the lake, his words were music to our ears.

Now we had a plan for the morrow

The Stuff Bike Dreams are made of Photo: Roy C.

The Country and Western Adventure

2011-08-08T07:08:00.000-07:00

The dark line above the trail is the C&W in the distance

While everybody calls it the Kettle Valley Railway, in fact the old railbed that we chose to ride this year is actually called the Columbia and Western Railway - hence the title "Country and Western".

Two years ago, my intrepid cycling partner Roy and I had made this trip starting from Rock Creek and aiming towards Castlegar. The idea was first planted in my head on my inaugural KVR trip when we ran into a supported group of cyclists in Rock Creek and their leader told us that their tour had begun in Castlegar. As well, when travelling on the Crowsnest through Christina Lake, one can see way up on the mountainside the huge blocks of cut stone that were stacked up like Lego blocks to help hold the railbed to the side of the mountain. As Roy drove and my mind wandered, I began to imagine us way up there clinging to the edge of that steep incline, riding our bikes and exploring that remote trail.

My friend Perry was joining us this year and through some wise planning with our friend Terry T., we determined that the trip this year should start in Castlegar and make its way to Rock Creek and then return. Three days out and three days back. Why do all that extra driving and waste important saddle time?

Just like two years ago, it was raining when we pulled into Castlegar and we had some difficulty finding the campground since they don't advertise on the internet and we had to rely on our faulty memories from a couple of years back. I mean we only stayed there overnight and it was dark when we drove in and early the next morning when we left.

We avoid the rain

The camp host rmembered Roy and since he is such a charmer, she suggested that we pitch our tents under one of the covered picnic shelters. Since it was raining, all the other campers were in their tents bemoaning the fact that their holiday was being ruined while we excitedly set up our tents on the nice flat (and dry) concrete slab that makes up the floor of the shelter.

We were to find out a few days later that a group of four cyclists were climbing to the summit at Farron while we were nice and dry under the sturdy roof and that it was so cold and wet at the top that one of the group suffered hypothermia and had to be brought down to a lower elevation where it was warmer and dryer. Their trip had to be altered significantly to accomodate their ill partner.

Once on our own way to the summit, we took pictures of Perry to mark the beginning of his first bicycle camping adventure. We chose to photograph him at the only place on the KVR/C&W that you can actually see the rails of the old train route. You get to ride between the rails for about 1/2 a kilometer and we have been told that the CPR may use that railbed again in the future.

What a couple of hams!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words so I guess Perry will be talking a lot to his family and friends about everything he experienced on the trip!

Less Than One Week To Go!

2011-08-04T07:11:00.000-07:00

From our recent "Adventure Cycling" trip

For those of you who would like to learn more about bicycle camping then you might want to attend the "Cycle Camping" workshop being held at "Bikeworks" - the bicycle commuter's bike shop.

The two hour course will include topics such as: choosing the right bike, what to take with you, where to go and how to get the most out of such a fun trip. Plus lots more!

To attend, you can register at: http://edmontonbikes.ca/calendar/more/cycle_adventuring_course/

See You There!!

The Scenery Is Here - I wish You Were Beautiful

2011-07-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

Back soon to fill you in on all our Adventure Cycling stories!

Backwoods Artistry

Will post shortly thereafter!

The Excitement Is Building

2011-07-21T11:52:00.000-07:00

Near Greenwood

In only a few days, Perry (whose blog you might have read the other day), Roy and I will be heading southwest to the interior of British California to begin our adventure cycling trip for the year. For me this is year five, Roy year seven and the newbie Perry - year one.

The above picture shows Roy up ahead near Greenwood and one of the two summits we would climb on the way to Castlegar. We had just had an encounter with a local who I named Graham Townsend - a rifle toting farmer originally from southern England. Mr. Townsend was out for an evening stroll with his dogs and keeping a wary eye out for the coyotes who had been raiding his henhouse.

It has been a busy week trying to get everything ready for the trip - choosing freeze-dried foods, replacing a bent tent peg, trying to locate my camping pillow, returning the crappy sleeping bag that I tried out last weekend on our over-night camp out, raising the handlebars on the bike, buying small containers of toiletries, finding a second water bottle and bottle cage and a hundred other tasks that need attending to - like cutting the grass, weeding the garden etc.

Just one of the tunnels that we'll travel through

One of my favourite occurances is riding through the railway tunnels that dot the trail. Riding from 30 degree temperatures and bright sunlight into a dark, moist and cool cave-like atmosphere never fails to thrill me. The longest tunnel is called the Bulldog Tunnel - here's an excerpt from "Riding the Kettle Valley Railway": The tunnel itself cuts a straight line from east to west with a slight hook at the west end. Travelling from west to east is preferable because once around the corner you just walk toward the light at the other end, but coming from the east you walk in total darkness for almost the total length of the tunnel.

From cool and moist to hot and sunny

The weather forecast is for hot sunny conditions and if there isn't a fireban in effect, we might just relax in front of an open fire. It can get pretty cool way up near the summits that we will ascend and a fire can quickly improve the morale of my two fair-weather cycling friends. I can remember huddling with Roy in a patch of sunlight early one morning in Beaverdell while trying to eat porridge and waiting for the temperature to warm up enough to melt the frost on our tents.

If the thirty degree temperatures that are called for actually happen, then our stays inside a cool railway tunnel might actually stretch into an overnight adjournment.

That Wasn't So Bad

2011-07-18T07:15:00.000-07:00

Perry here. I've been losing sleep worrying about our impending Kettle Valley Railway bike trip. Am I strong enough for seven or eight days of riding in the mountains? Am I going to pack the right stuff? What about my sleeps? Did I get the right Thermarest?

A mountain of stuff

My nerves took a beating when I stood back after loading my new bike and saw the mountain of stuff on the back. Yes I've done the Golden Triangle three times but that was different because we went "Inn to Inn" and had lunches and meals in restaurants - we didn't have to carry everything on our bikes. I'm a fussy guy and I don't want my brand new Specialized getting all scratched up. Pearce told me to take off the kickstand because the added weight isn't needed so I hope I find trees or something to lean the bike against.

Just for starters

Our little ride down to the campsite was a piece of cake. My computer showed 11 klicks - which is shorter than my commute to work. Pearce tells me that we'll do 50 - 65 klicks a day on the KVR - so doing that distance everyday concerns me. Once we pull into our reserved campsite, Pearce whips out two big cans of beer even before we decide where to put the tents. And then he pulls out a bottle of red wine from deep down in one of his panniers. Does this guy have a drinking problem or what? Or is the KVR trip just a beer bash and punch-up?

I had to pat myself on the back when I got a good fire going in one of those useless rotating mailbox looking BBQ/firebox thingies. (I did have to call my wife to bring down a box of split wood from home and what the heck - maybe some more beer). We went over to the camp office to ask about wood and when we saw that the wood came in great huge chunks and was stuffed into a four foot sack and cost ten bucks, that's when I called my spouse to help out. Not only are we too cheap to pay for wood but without any way of splitting it, we would end up like the rest of the campers with a smoke generating machine (which might help keep the mozzies away!).

Not bad eh?

Except for having to get up for a whizz at 3 am, I had a good sleep and using my earplugs, I blocked out the buzz-saw snoring coming from Pearce's one man tent. The tent that he says he bought intentionally so that there was no way he would have to bunk with anyone else. Let alone spoon another man!

I think I can do the Kettle Valley Railway.

One Night Stand

2011-07-13T09:14:00.000-07:00

It's not too late to consider planning to bike camp this summer! An easy way to do it is to go for an over-nighter. Leave in the later morning or even in the early afternoon - get a few hours of riding in and end up at a local campground. In enough time to set up camp, get a nice fire going, torque up the stove to boil water for the freeze-dried food you carried with you and crack open that bottle of red wine that was deep in your pannier.

Yes it will take some planning - reserving a campsite, snagging some dried food-in-a-bag, choosing an appropriate red to compliment the "DEEP WOODS STARVING CYCLIST CHILI", remembering to bring matches and planning a route to get there.
Don't bother carrying an axe or hatchet (you don't need the weight) as there will always be a camper that will kindly lend you one. Since it is only one night, you only need a change of clothes for the ride back the next day although you will need to pack everything else - tent, pegs, poles, groundsheet, sleeping bag, pillow, Thermarest mattress, bug spray, personal grooming items, camera, shoes to relax in and you might want to bring a flashlight to illuminate that trashy paperback that you snuck into one of the myriad pockets on your saddlebags.

When you're back at work and reflecting on your one-night outdoor adventure, you're bound to begin daydreaming about slipping in just one more one-nighter before the days of summer begin to wane and the leaves start to change colour and you start to think about all the things you have to do to get ready for winter.

Signs Signs Everywhere a Sign

2011-07-08T09:09:00.000-07:00

These signs that I see twice a day when I'm commuting to work mean well....

No Sh**t

If I had a dog and if I was going to take it to a spa - I'd pick a clean one.

The Morning After

2011-07-05T07:26:00.000-07:00

It is always an interesting exercise to have experienced an event and then read about it the morning after in the paper. There have been lots of times when I've had to ask myself "Are they talking about the same hockey game?". "I don't remember that happening on July 1st!".

A recent example was the "Ride to Shakespeare" to watch a performance of Othello. I must admit that I went more for the ride than the actual play. I haven't seen a Shakesperian play since my parents used to take the whole fambily to Stratford every summer. The highlight for my twin brother and I would be intermission when some old doll smelling strongly of violets would spy we two little boys dressed identically in miniature suits and after gushing about how cute we were, hand us a quarter which we would then spend on ice cream cones when our father wasn't looking.

At the beginning of the play, I was convinced that Desdemona's pauses were to disguise having forgotten her lines. My suspicions were confirmed when I looked to the other actors on stage and observed the pleading looks in their eyes - praying that she wouldn't stumble as she had so many times in rehearsal. " There's a theater reviewer in the crowd for God's sake. Don't blow it on opening night!"

The ride itself was a lot of fun - riding in a group is more entertaining than riding alone. We were serenaded by Chris who had attached a large speaker to his pannier rack and was playing a combination of music and poetry. Chris made sure that he rode in the lead so that the music and words would wash over us as we cycled to the park.

The serenading set-up

Just like Coreen's pictures

This is the first time I've tried taking photos while actually pedalling and after some practise, I'm sure that I won't be swerving all over the bike path as though I was riding under the influence (that possibility existed when I discovered that beer and wine were sold at the theatrical venue). I've seen blogger/bike mechanic/cyclist Coreen take pictures while riding and thought I'd try the same and if you visit her blog you'll see that her photographic efforts are superior to mine - perhaps she doesn't drink?

The Moor Of Venice

2011-07-02T10:44:00.000-07:00

At five o'clock the wind picked up considerably and it began to rain - an auspicious start to "The Ride To Shakespeare" which was to start at 6:30. Somehow the dressing - up bug had caught me and I had spent a considerable amount of time finding an appropriate outfit to wear to a performance of the bard's work. The rainfall would mean that I would have to scrap my plans and wear my biking rain gear.

On different occasions, I had visited a number of thrift stores looking for a tweed jacket, knickerbokers, a swanky shirt, knee-high argyll socks and a tweed cap. Upon reflection, I realized that I would look more like a 1920's golfer than an English cyclist (or my idea of an English cyclist).

In one fell swoop I rummaged through the clothing racks at G'Will and found a jacket to fit, a collarless shirt and golden coloured corduroy pants. I already had snagged a tweed vest and with a bit of alteration, it would fit. Finding a cap was another challenge and after scouring the Antique Mall to no avail, I found one in the men's section of a downtown department store. I thought wearing it made me look old.

In fact, in choosing this particular outfit, I realized I was styling myself more after the character "Flying Officer Louis Sedgwick" a part that James Cogburn played in "The Great Escape" than a proper English cyclist.

WARNING

2011-06-28T15:27:00.000-07:00

In my June 16th blog about the MS Nisku to Camrose bike tour, I forgot to mention one very important point - IT IS IMPERATIVE IF YOU WISH TO HAVE A SUCCESSFUL DAY TWO OF THE TOUR - THEN STAY AWAY FROM THE TEMPTATIONS AT THIS PLACE:

Bike To The Symphony

2011-06-23T06:43:00.000-07:00

***"Ride to the Symphony" will be broadcast on Access's "Alberta Prime Time" at 7Pm MST, June24/11 - also posted on their website next week ***

A well dressed group on the High Level. That's the resident conductor Lucas Waldron third from left.

Notice the camera on that fellow's helmet - talk about coverage!

Bit of a traffic jam crossing Jasper Ave.

Swarming into the heart of downtown

Almost there!

My 3-speed Triumph is second from left.

Thanks to EBC for the use of these fine photos!

It's A Foldey But A Goody

2011-06-20T06:53:00.000-07:00

It looks like a toy next to Jackie and Ben's bikes

While visiting "Bikeworks" last week on a mission to break a chain for a friend, I nearly collided with a bike while looking for the light switch. Once the shop was illuminated, I discovered to my surprise that the obstacle in front of me was a DAHON folding bike. My brother calls this "manifestation" when what you've been wanting makes its appearance. And I had mentioned to someone recently that I would add a folding bike to my ever-increasing collection of two-wheeled conveyances along with a tandem and another mountain bike.

I had the money in my pocket and after a quick inspection of the little bike and a short trip down the alley behind the shop to test it out, it was mine. I couldn't believe my good fortune until I reminded myself that I was the one who made this happen.

Since last Monday, I've ridden it to "Mocktails on the Bridge", commuted to and from work and just yesterday took it to Gold Bar Park for a Father's Day ride with Jackie and Ben in aid of autism. Except for the rain, we had a wonderful little ride on paved trails and a number of people commented on this unusual little bike. In fact there were quite a few young children riding tiny bikes and I fit right in with them.

This little gem is a riot to ride and fits perfectly in the trunk of my car (I don't even have to bother with the bike rack) and since it is so much fun to pedal that I've decided to give this new addition a fun name -

"FOLDEY HAWN"

Earthworm Thruway

2011-06-16T06:25:00.000-07:00

The musty, slimy smell of eathworms covering the wet highway gave an added dimension to the rainy scene that unfolded before me at 6:30 in the morning of day 2 of the tour. Everyone has seen the phenomenon of worms crawling across sidewalks and roads when it is raining. There were so many of them on the highway that they created a smell. I wouldn't go so far as to say that there was any danger of skidding off the road because of their numbers. But there was an inordinate number of platyhelminths to thread your way around.

Peace out man!

It wasn't until 7:11 that another cyclist passed me while I was taking this picture of some creative road tar artistry. The cyclist stopped long enough to ensure that I was okay and then pedalled off into the rain. It is a real treat to find road tar art and I sometimes wonder if the fumes from the hot asphalt has anything to do with the work crew's creativity?

I don't know why I didn't pack my long stretchy cycling pants or my rain booties - I guess I based my clothing decisions on a weather forecast that wasn't aimed at Camrose on Sunday. For some odd reason I did pack my helmet rain cover and at least I was spared cold rain water dripping down my back. The bandana also soaked up some of the frigid rain drops and my yellow cycling jacket did an okay job of protecting me. My cycling friend Molly told me that if I put my cycling jacket into the clothes dryer, the heat would help reactivate the jacket's rain - repelling qualities.

As the day wore on, I was losing feeling in my hands and fingers and shifting became a bit of a challenge. I found myself wobbling across the paved shoulder every time I reached down to shift and I inadvertantly sliced a few worms in half as my skinny road tires acted like large rolling pizza knives. Lyn, another MS Tourist,informed me that worms have the ability to regenerate themsleves when cut in two. So I contented myself with the idea that I was actually expanding the worm population and doing my part in the environmental domain.

Yes We Have One Bandana

2011-06-13T06:47:00.000-07:00

In my April 11th blog I mentioned the value of taking a bandana along while out biking and now I have found another use for that handy square piece of cloth.

After day one of the Tour and while preparing for the evening's banquet, I decided to wash my snazzy MS jersey so I could wear it on day 2. During the ride from Nisku, I'd been wearing my MEC hydration pack and some perspiration had accumulated on my back and a good wash of the cycling shirt was necessary. This was all fine and dandy - but how to dry it?

Not wanting to drape the shirt over the hotel furniture, I opened the window and the roar of diesel pickups and the blamming of car exhausts filled the room. Ah! Lovely rural Alberta!

I snagged one of the theft-proof wooden hangers from inside the closet - but how to hang up the shirt when the hanger has no hook? Bandana to the rescue. I tied a knot to the curtain rod and using the same granny knot, tied the other end of the bandana to the metal post of the hanger. And voila! A do it yourself clothesline. The line held the shirt at just the right height so that the exhaust - filled breeze could waft its way through the mesh fabric and dry this year's version of the MS jersey.

NEXT: Earthworm Thruway (MS Tour Day 2)

It's A Goldmine!!

2011-06-07T07:48:00.000-07:00

"A Viagra Wind Is The Best Trainer"

Jerry Quesnell

Not thinking that I would need mitts and a headband, I was unprepared for the icy wind that greeted me as I headed south toward Devon to begin my last serious training session before next weekend's MS Tour. I did find another excellent use for a bandana - wearing it across my face bandit style in an attempt to ward off frosbite. In June no less. Me looking like an cycling bandit or an urban cowboy on a two-wheeled horse.

Judging from the size and heft of the articles scattered on the shoulder of the highway, I was glad to be wearing a helmet. A mild concern as I rode on the paved shoulder was that I would get beaned from some item carelessly chucked from one of the vehicles passing off my left shoulder. Hundreds of beer cans, pop bottles, energy drink containers, tire shreds, bungy cords beyond count, an industrial sized turnbuckle, Slim Horton coffee cups and the ubiquitous plastic bags snagged on barb wire fences greeted me on my journey.

The first useful item was a small crescent wrench - similar to the one I carried in my hydration pack to adjust my seat. As far as I'm concerned, one of the purposes of training is to work out the bugs on the bike. And my seat needed lots of adjustment to be able to spend 10 - 12 hours over 2 days sitting on it. A "Shakedown Cruise". Like what is done in the navy before commissioning a boat or submarine.

After another 5 klicks and stopping to see a man about a horse, I nearly ran over an expensive looking utility knife. Coming back across the Devon Bridge, a whole socket set. My already bulging hydration pack couldn't hold the whole lot and after waiting for a break in the traffic, I snatched an articulated box wrench and a ratcheting socket from the road.

Approaching my starting point, I spy a safety helmet and a large new road sign whose post had somehow been shattered and now lay haphazardly on the grassy verge. Greed overcoming need, I hefted the 50 pound get up onto my shoulder and headed over to my road bike.

While making these frequent stops, I reminded myself that I was training for a tour - not a race and it was harmless to indulge my scrounging instincts and that I could pick up as much as I was willing to carry on my back, bike or shoulder.
It took an hour and a half to ride the 35 kilometers into the wind but only half that time to make it back to my starting point. The cup was certainly half full on the way back.

The Goldmine

What do you call roadside debris in the Motor City?

Detroitus

Trainink

2011-06-03T07:40:00.000-07:00

Last Year's Tour - Day 2

When we approached my vehicle parked on the side of the road near Nisku, the alarm was going off and I felt sure that the car had been broken into while we were pedaling our way to 65K.

With the sun shining and clouds right out of the Simpsons, my cycling compadre Perry the K and I headed out towards Wetaskiwin. I figured that if I was going to train for the MS Tour, then I might as well follow the route itself. What I was really trying to do here was to test out the new rear cassette that Doug at United Cycle had installed this past winter. (Smart guy to plan so far ahead ne c'est pas?).

The new rear cassette

Perry wanted to try out his new Specialized and of course since the two of us will be riding the Kettle Valley Railroad this summer with Roy, this beautiful day would be the perfect opportunity to train. What we didn't realize was that the very fast pace we were setting (at times 30 km/hr and gusting downhill at 54 km/hr.) was not because of our superior athleticism but because we had a strong wind at our backs.

There was more traffic on this secondary highway than during the tour and local residents must avoid using this paved road on the tour weekend. The road itself is in great shape and has a paved shoulder and I'm sure these are the very reasons the MS Society has chosen this particular route.

Perry is like my other friend Roy in that he is a very strong rider. Rides fast and hard. And his larger frame would pay me a lot of dividends when we turned around after 35 k. and started back to the vehicle. I tucked in behind his rear wheel and stared straight ahead and down at his rear rubber, ready to brake or maneuver out of the way depending on what he was doing ahead of me.

Back home again

After a couple of stops to drain the lizard, we made it back to the car and when we were within 30 feet, I could hear the alarm and see the lights flashing. With concern written all over my face, I pedaled hard to reach the car and see what had set the alarm off. Without any signs of forced entry and nothing missing from the vehicle, we could only speculate that the wind had rocked the car hard enough to trip the alarm. Just goes to show you what kind of wind Perry had to break. (I'm not saying he breaks wind in the way you might be thinking...).

We are currently experiencing technical....

2011-05-30T06:48:00.000-07:00

The computer I usually use has blown up and the laptop from home is currently en route from Taiwan to home. I'm too much of a Luddite to figure out how to blog using my CrackBerry or an IPOD.

There is so much I want to tell you faithful readers!

How I filmed a slug of my friends snaking their way off the High Level Bridge during "Critical Mass" on Friday night.

Or my friend Keith (ravingbikefiend.com) and how he has given me an English 3-speed to "Ride to the Symphony") on Wednesday night. And how you can see this fine bike on his blog.

Plus doing a 65k. training ride with my Kettle Valley Railway compadre Perry the K. on Saturday.

I never thought the day would come when I might replace "Furry Lewis" but I have found a Schwinn MOAB that fits the bill and through my friend Alex, have placed dibs on owning that mountain bike.

We will get through this rough technical period together and in the near future ride into a glorious sunset.

Unicycle MTB

2011-05-25T06:45:00.000-07:00

That's not me

I scared the crap out of my cycling friend Roy the other day when we went mountain biking on the trails at Terwilligar Park. I really should have given my friend a heads-up as he found it pretty "exciting". I thought he would figure things out when I was busy in the basement taking the handlebar "horns" off my bike as well as the rear pannier rack. Strippin' that baby down. While Roy watched, I really should have suggested that he get his Schwinn MOAB and do the same.

It wasn't that long ago that my daughter and I joined our first MS Mountain Tour training at Terwilligar and I found it pretty "Exciting" as well. Jackie was riding her touring bike and found it almost impossible to navigate the roots and rough terrain. Let alone doing it at speed. Our instructor Al, was tearing up the trail and by default, I ended up being behind him and was very surprised at his speed. No wonder experienced MTB'ers like Al find the MS Mountain Tour to be an entry - level experience.

It was on our way back to the parking lot that we happened across a mountain biker on a unicycle. Part of me wanted to scoff at the very notion but part of me thought "Here's a new way to experience the outdoors!" The fellow doing the MUni didn't quite make it up the short slope he was on and I saw no shame in him walking back down the trail. I mean it's hard enough to unicycle let alone mountain bike with it and do so without the aid of gears. So helmets off to this guy!

Fancy-schmancy

The unicycle itself appeared to have a handle sticking out of the front and now I realise it was simply the brake apparatus hanging off the seat post. I imagine the next innovation will be either disc brakes or shocks for the one - wheeled bike.

The City Responds

2011-05-18T06:41:00.000-07:00

Here's an email I sent the city the other day:
I am a bicycle commuter and I would like to know why residential streets are being cleaned before some of the major roadways? For example I commute down 102 Avenue into downtown and I have seen street cleaning crews working on residential streets near 137Street, yet 102 Avenue has a thick layer of sand near the curb which causes me to ride further out into traffic which is dangerous for both me and the busy traffic on 102.
Thanks!

The city's response:
Thanks for your e-mail concern. We do have priorities we follow and major roadways are higher but there is other considerations that come into play as well such as safety of our personnel. We do not want our crews on major roads during peak traffic volumes which is typically during the day. The high volume or high speed roadways are done at night when volumes are lighter and safer and we can achieve greater productivity. Downtown also has more on the street parking during the day then during the night. Businesses also wouldn't appreciate their customers having no place to park if we swept it during the day. Most people work during the day so there cars are gone during the day meaning there are less parked cars in the way for residential sweeping. So residential street sweeping is a good fit during the day when the major roadways are experiencing high traffic volumes. By taking these considerations into account we are achieving a better and more effective job on nights and days.

Since you are a faithful reader of my blog, you'll know that I'm no expert on grammar (I don't do it good). But for me to find three obvious errors in one email leads me think that our fair city's administrators might want to schedule grammar lessons for their employees.

Where I work we have to fill out our work goals for the year which I think is just the company's way of getting more work out of us for the same pay. I can only imagine a city employee's reaction to having to enroll in grammar lessons. "Call the union! I'm not doing this crap on my time!!"

The building in which I work is shared with the university and to reach our company vehicles it is necessary to amble down a long corridor that bisects a number of classrooms. While English as a second language seems to be the main topic that is taught in these hallowed halls, I'm sure that accomodations could be made to teach grammar to city staff.

The halls that are crowded with young students from other countries would now be filled to overflowing with older students wearing their plaid shirts and no - iron pants from Mark's Work Warehouse. The ladies would be in stretch pants and sensible shoes. The odd employee would still be sporting a florescent vest and the stubborn ones would continue to wear their steel - toed boots.

I would welcome their attendance in our shared hallways and maybe, just maybe as I walk to my vehicle I could ask one of them when exactly do they plan to clean up the sandbars on 102 Avenue?

MISSISSIPPI 'RED

2011-05-13T09:52:00.000-07:00

"My name is Fred McDowell. They call me Mississippi Fred McDowel. But my home is in Rossville Tennennee. But it don't make any different, it sound good to me...I do not play no rock 'n' roll y'all. I jus' play jus' straight an' natchel blue...Now the only way you can rock Fred, you have to put him in a rocking chair..."

So begins one of the 70's classic blues albums (back when vinyl was king) recorded in Jackson Mississippi and later released on Capital Records. My sister Hilary introduced me to the album and I remember being struck by one of the song titles - "MY JESUS IS ON THE MAINLINE". My vinyl version is getting pretty worn and I've had trouble finding it on CD.

All of this leads me to an inspiration I had the other day while training for the MS Tour. As faithful readers of my blog, you'll remember that my silver TREK is called Furry Lewis but I've never named my red road bike. Until last Saturday. I don't even remember the point at which the idea hit me. Was it when we were headed uphill and into the wind ? Or twice when we were sent in the wrong direction? It is ususally when I'm slogging through a long section of a ride and my attention begins to wander that I have these flashes of inspiration.

It was Thomas Edison who said that "Ideas come from space" and it was on the MS Tour a couple of years ago that the eccentric notion of velcro-ing a digital voice recorder to my MEC hydration system occured to me. I had been thinking for some time how I could record conversations and observations while riding since using a pen and notebook just wouldn't do.

Calling my road bike Mississippi 'Red is not only a little play on words but an apt name for a bike that I'm really getting to like and named after a bluesman that I've always enjoyed since my sister introduced me to his music.

On Your Marks, Get Set.....

2011-05-09T07:24:00.000-07:00

Mississippi 'Red

In a scene remeniscent of "Planes Trains and Automobiles", a van pulls up beside three of us still cranking away into the wind. With the passenger window wound down, an older gal yells out the window "YOU'RE GOING THE WRONG WAY!!". Moments later, she pulls to a stop and emerges from the vehicle in a bit of a panic to inform us that we have gone way too far past the 15km. check point and that we need to turn around. My two riding companions groan in disgust and I try to put a positive spin on the situation by declaring that "Well, since this is a training ride - we've just gotten more training!". They don't buy it.

There is nothing that makes you shake your head more than a person who is so confidently wrong. We had been pedalling uphill for quite some time and I was just beginning to wonder how far away this rest stop was when at the top of the next hill we see a cyclist all togged out in matching red shorts and jersey standing and signalling everyone to turn left. It was four kilometers down that left turn that the van driver pulled us over.

Since I had been drafting the young lady ahead of me, I had tons of energy to turn around and head back the way we had so recently struggled to pedal. The lady in the van had told us to ride to the last intersection before Highway 60 and turn left. When I reached the turn I discovered that we needed to turn right not left! Once again, someone had confidently given us the wrong directions. In an effort to be gallant, I stood at that corner to make sure that all the cyclists behind me made the correct turn and when they had all passed and I made it to the check stop, I saw that I was the last one to arrive.

After using the facilities and putting some air in my front tire I discovered that the rest stop was now closed and the two marshalls who were "Sweeping" were patiently waiting for me to get my a** in gear. One of the marshalls - Al, rode in front and the other marshall rode right behind me. Al is strongly built and since we were heading into a south wind, I tucked in behind his rear wheel and enjoyed having the wind broken for me by his powerful body.

I expressed some consternation at being last and Al assured me that we would soon catch up to the slow riders and it wasn't long before we began shouting over the traffice noise "On Your Left!". I couldn't help but wonder what these riders must have thought of us when they saw a marshall decked out all in red and right behind him was an older guy in last year's MS jersey and right on his rear wheel another marshall dressed entirely in red. Was this some sort of honourary vanguard? Who is the dude in the middle? Does he have MS and that's why he has an escort? There wasn't too much time to contemplate the slower cyclist's thoughts as all three of us in our miniature precession encouraged the slower riders with "Keep 'er going! Almost there! You can go it!" and other lame expressions.

Stu from United Cycle

Once back at the starting point, it was reassuring to have Stu Hutchins from United Cycle josh us over the sound system by asking us if we enjoyed the extra "Training Loop" and knowing we had successfully completed the training experience.

Al (the marshall) and Stu

The End Of the Story

2011-05-06T06:49:00.000-07:00

You might be wondering whatever happened to the rest of the story about the Day Two of the MS Tour? In my enthusiasm to tell you about my training session in the river valley last Sunday, I skipped filling you in on the rest of the story.

MS Tour Day Two (Part Two)

As I tore away from lunch (and some welcome shade), I spotted my new friend Anna coming toward me and as we passed each other like two ships in the night, I realized that this might be my only opportunity to give her my email address so she could send me the picture she took of me the day before and thereby pump up my already large ego.
By the time I had turned around, Anna was already lost in the throng surrounding the lunch stop. When I finally did catch up, she was pleased that I had made the effort. We exchanged war stories and contact information. I figured I could return her favour by reaching Nisku first and taking a picture of her crossing the finishline. I needn't have worried as her man Edwin, a skilled photog. was all over it.

Once again, I came across a group of ladies who had been shadowing the tour all day. They would drive a short distance, stop their car, disembark and stand at the roadside cheering cyclists as they passed this happy spot. I was touched by their gesture and told them how awesome they were as I passed. Their efforts made me feel special and it reminded me that we were all participating in something larger than ourselves.

The last big hill before the finish line was not nearly as bad as I remembered from last year, when I did my first tour. The trick was to choose a low gear and a high cadence combination. How long it takes to complete the hill is not a concern as this is a tour and not a race. Plus it would be a shame to injure yourself at this stage - when you've almost completed the whole tour.

A typical salute

I thought about all the different victory poses I could choose when crossing the finish line. A military salute like the one I give to thoughtful drivers? The Churchill V for victory? A hockey style fist pump? Two arms up like in the Tour De France? Instead I opted out for a big smile, especially when I saw my friend Haydn (who has MS) volunteering to cheer riders completing the tour and crossing the finish line. The fact that there was a cheering section told me that I had made better time than other tours. Two years ago when I crossed the finish line during the second day of the MS Hinton Mountain Tour, volunteers were taking down banners and disassembling the scaffolding that made a neat victory arch over the finish line. I was glad to have a helmet on just in case a piece of the arch fell on my head as I passed underneath!

The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring Tra - La

2011-05-01T18:20:00.000-07:00

Being on the river valley trails for the first time in forever it seems, I found I was a bit cranky with all the citizens enjoying the sunshine. The situation made me think of those people who live in resort towns and have the whole place to themselves until spring and summer arrive and their town in inundated with the great unwashed. Their situation is a little different from how I found myself this afternoon - in that they accept the thronging hordes because this is how their earn their livelihood. People buying ice cream cones and waffles and such. Whereas for me, having ridden throughout the fall, winter and now spring and having the traveling routes pretty much all to myself, I need to adjust my thinking. That woman with her five foot wide stroller, that group of six macho dude joggers, the family with the unleashed dogs; they all have a right to the trails don't they? Sure they do. On the other hand, the stroller-mother doesn't need to glower at me as I pass. The jogger guy should have moved to the right so I could pass on the left. My brakes allow me to stop on a dime so I didn't cut the dog in half. What's the problem? I knew I should have gotten up at my usual time of 5:30 and left on a ride.

Now that rant is off my chest I can mention some of the great stuff.


Like this cool treehouse

Or this brand new pedometer I found near a curb

Or the fact that I hit 138 bpm climbing a long steep hill

Or the firemen washing off their rescue boat ramp

In the odd chance that you're wondering - the title of this blog is from a Gilbert and Sullivan comic opera - The Mikado and is taken from a song that is poking fun at the Victorian judicial system. The judge in the song is telling a lawyer that "The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring" have nothing to do with the case. Except for the word spring, this blog title has nothing to do with this blog.

MS Tour Day 2 Revisited

2011-04-27T06:20:00.000-07:00

Gratuitous bike picture

In honour of my friend Heather D. who has MS and in the thirty odd years I've known her, has always shown great courage and an indominatible spirit - I dedicate this blog to her.

The live band in the lounge underneath my room in the hotel last night didn't have any effect on my sleep as I couldn't keep my eyes open past 10Pm as it was. It did help that I had the air-conditioner on full blast and its constant mechanized drone drowned out the annoying frequencies from the local band downstairs. As well, the feeble stream of air from its vents helped dry my sweat dampened clothing.

I checked out at 6am and made my way over to the Camrose Fairgrounds where I dropped off my luggage and dove into the enormous breakfast hall which was alive with the excited chatter of at least a thousand hungry cyclists. I scanned the list of acceptable foods to eat that my daughter Jackie had provided to me over the phone last night and then made my way to the tables groaning under the weight of a delectable assortment of breakfast foods. On my cardboard plate I made a mile-high stack of pancakes and added a shovel full of scrambled eggs and a pail of fresh fruit.

My plan was to leave as soon as I had eaten since I knew the route we were to take and I wanted to beat both the sun and the heat that it was surely to bring. I sat with a friend from United Cycle and one of the tour marshalls who explained to us that "The first day is all about broken bicycles and the second day is all about broken bodies!"

After scarfing down my high - powered breakfast, I had just mounted my two - wheeled conveyance when the fairground gate was swung open and five of us eager types rushed its opening. I exulted in being with the lead group for four minutes and ten seconds when over my left shoulder I heard the plaintive cry "On your Left!" and the day's steady stream of hard-chargers began. As I rounded the second corner I was passed by Kevin, a triathele that I had met earlier who told me that he would make Nisku in 2 hours. As he passed, I looked down at my cyclometer and saw I was doing 22km./hr. and he was easily going twice as fast as I. What an impressive display of strength and stamina.

Riding close to the front of the pack was quite a different experience from last year. No bikes being hurtled to the ground at the rest stops. No bodies thrown onto the cool grass in wasted slendour. No cacaphony of groans and complaints. No flaggin' wagins full of broken bodies. No department store bikes. These were serious riders astride expensive, lightweight road bikes. A lot of riders like Kevin who were using the tour as training for a triathalon or another tour. I felt proud to be among them (even if my secret was just to have left early) and I knew that even though hundreds, if not a thousand would pass me, I would still finish higher in the pack than I had done last year. There might even be a volunteer or two to cheer me into the finish line this time.

At lunch I found a shady spot on the fire escape of the Community Center in the town of Hay Lakes where volunteers were busy quartering oranges and slicing juicy watermelons. While I was waiting in line for grub, an older gal asked if she could take my photo. She was collecting pictures of greybeards and since she was sporting an official MS Society badge, I agreed. I struck a manly pose in the doorway of the Community Center and in my mind I decided to shave off the beard at the earliest opportunity. I haven't mentioned that yesterday, before we reached the first rest stop, a marshall rode up beside me asked me just how old was I? At 57, I don't consider myself old and I was rather insulted at his question. When I saw him at other times during the tour, he acted like he'd never seen me before. Maybe he lost a bet with one of the other marshalls. "Hey I bet you that old dude over there is at least 80!" "Okay, you're on! At the snail's pace that he's pedalling, I'd say he's at least 85! I'll go ask him!"..... In my mind, I again resolved to shave off the white facial fuzz as soon as I got home.

Next: After lunch meeting Anna! Finish line photos! The clappers!

If you'd like to sponsor me on this year's tour, please go to my donation page: http://msofs.mssociety.ca/2011bike/Sponsor.aspx?PID=1242881&L=2

And Thank You!

Reprising the Reprise

2011-04-23T18:55:00.000-07:00

MS TOUR Day 1

Luckily for me I found the rarest of things in Alberta - a patch of shade to eat my lunch and rest under. Sitting near me was a gal named Arlene and as we cooled off, we swapped stories of the tour so far. She related her plan to keep her bike in her tent so that she could start whenever she felt like it on Sunday morning instead of waiting for the bike barn to be opened hence releasing all the bikes. I explained to her that my hotel was right on day two's route and I could start from there if I skipped the free breakfast at the start line. What I didn't tell her is that I'm so cheap, I wouldn't pass up a free breakfast.

After lunch, I met up with a strong cyclist - Anna, a yoga therapist. We chatted for a while riding side by side until she suggested that for safety's sake we ride single-file. Since she was so fit, it wasn't long before we became separated. I next saw her when she snapped a picture of me riding into the rest stop at Gwynne School and being eager for some shade, I didn't pause to talk but simply found a cool spot near a shed to rest. I did wonder if our paths would cross again on the tour. With 2,000 cyclists scattered over 200 kilometers, it was highly probable that we wouldn't meet again on the tour. Being as vain as I am, I wanted that picture!

We had all been warned at lunch about road construction near Camrose and it did involve a bunch of us being stopped by a flagman and waiting for the paving crew to finish. When we were waved through, I could hear the pearl sized tar bubbles popping beneath my hot tires. Anyone on a road bike had to be trucked over the hot asphalt because of the risk of their high-pressure tires exploding from the added heat.

It was a long single file line of us entering Camrose and I realized that I had probably made better time than last year when I had pedalled into this fair city all alone (the majority of riders already having crossed the finish line and were quaffing cold beverages in the beer garden). As further evidence that I had made better time, there was a group of volunteer "Cheerleaders" shouting congratulations as I crossed the finish line. Unlike last year when I came in so late that the volunteers had given up seeing anyone else ride across the line.

Once in my air-conditioned room, I put the next day's powerbars and water into the bar fridge, showered and then put on long pants, a striped shirt and a bandana around my neck in a lame effort to look "Western" for the themed banquet.

After meeting the rest of my "Teammates" at the banquet, our defacto leader "Stew Hutchins" announced to the group that as a team, we had raised $16,000.00 towards the cure!

Next: Day 2....

If you would like to sponsor me on this year's tour, please visit:http://msofs.mssociety.ca/2011bike/Sponsor.aspx?PID=1242881&L=2

And Thank You!

BIKE TOUR REPRISE

2011-04-20T07:24:00.000-07:00

In honour of my friend Haydn who has MS I thought I'd reprise my story of last year's MS Bike Tour (Nisku to Camrose). Since I'm kicking off my fundraising for the tour, I'll also include a link for you to make your own donation if you'd like.

SATURDAY, June 19, 2010

The magnificent sight of 2,000 cyclists and their bikes and knowing that each and every person is here to make a difference in the fight against MS was, for me, awe inspiring. I snapped a couple of pictures hoping to capture the energy of that scene while we waited for the tour to start. Everyone, including myself, was eager to get going and an old boy near me began to heckle the speakers in a loud and petulant voice. I found out he was nicknamed "Whitey" because of his white beard and he appeared to be quite an experienced tour participant judging from the number of MS stickers on his helmet.

I managed to leave in the first 300 - 400 riders and was quite pleased with myself until I realized that with approximately 1,500 cyclists behind me, I was bound to hear "On Your Left!" hundreds of times before reaching Camrose. I was just feeling warmed up when we turned south into a headwind that would plague us all the way to Westaskiwin where lunch was to be served.

Riding into the wind was no fun. I watched my cyclometer as my speed dropped down and down. Up ahead, I spied a cyclist the size of Herman Munster and the image was complete when I got closer and saw how large his feet were, how his legs were as thick as telephone poles. Even the bowtie perched on his collar appeared to me to be as large as a ribbon you might find on a gift of an automobile. What this meant for me was that I could tuck in behind his large frame and draft him all the way to lunch. Impressively, he was riding a fixie into the wind and I had to pedal hard just to stay within inches of his rear wheel. I was feeling so grateful that I hoped he would win a prize for "Best Dressed" at the banquet later that evening.

To be continued....

If you would like to sponsor me on this year's tour, please go to: http://msofs.mssociety.ca/2011bike/Sponsor.aspx?PID=1242881&L=2

THIS IS FURRY LEWIS

2011-04-14T06:57:00.000-07:00

FURRY

My favourite bike is my silver TREK 4300 mountain bike which I bought for $500.00 five or six years ago at UnitedCycle. It replaced a nice black road bike that my buddy Roy had given me. The bike has a name - "Furry Lewis" - named for an old bluesman whose career was resurrected after an article about him appeared in "Playboy" magazine. My friend Jerry Quesnell says he buys the magazine for the articles. Sure!

Furry Lewis has a 16" aluminum frame with a wide handlebar mounting Shimano Rapid-Fire shifters. Except for the handle bar, the left shifter and the rear wheel, I have replaced everything else since its purchase. Which means I have a bike I really like and now has pretty good components.
Last year I replaced the front crankset and the one I chose has external bearings which I think are stronger than a regular bottom bracket. Most bottom brackets are sealed and this eliminates repacking the bearings. The rear cassette has been changed out numerous times since it wears out faster than the front chainrings. I can't count the number of chains I've used in these last five years.

External bearings

A spill a couple of years ago necessitated a new front wheel and right shifter and never being happy with the Shimano disc brakes, they've been replaced with Avid BB7's. I first read about Avid brakes while studying the Park Tools blue book of repair and when I saw that Avids are adjustable, I liked that option very much. There are good reasons for going for mechanical discs rather than hydraulics. A couple of years ago on one of our adventure cycling trips, we met up with a group of riders on the bi-pass around the Myra Canyon. One of the riders had had a spill and a tree branch had torn off both the hydraulic hoses from the front of his bike leaving him with no brakes. With mechanical discs, it is a relatively easy fix to replace a broken brake cable. With hydraulics, you'd be screwed.

Avid mechanical disc brakes

I change my tires frequently during the riding season - studded tires in winter/spring/fall, and knobbies for the KVR and the MS Mountain Tour and slicks for commuting. Even the pannier rack has been swapped out and I use different handlebar bags depending on my needs. I don't even remember what seat came with this bike but I've enjoyed having a Spiderflex hornless bikeseat.
It wasn't hard to replace the front shocks and I especially like the feature of having a remote control to lock out the shocks right from the handlebar when making a long climb. Mind you, front shocks can add a tremendous amount of weight to your rig. But necessary for control and comfort.

My son gets a good laugh out of all the "Bling" that ends up on my bike. What's so funny about a bell, a bike computer, front and rear lights, saddlebags, fenders, handlebar extensions, and extra bottle cage, a heart rate monitor, a handlebar bag, bar tape and a mirror? And a pannier rack? Once, commuting to work, he saw a cyclist heading toward him and he wondered who the old fart was riding this heavily accessorized bike? Turns out it was his old man. Didn't even recognize him!!

This is Furry Lewis and I want to call him a friend. If you can do that with an inanimate object.

One Simple Item

2011-04-11T07:09:00.000-07:00

Keeping the sun off

When it comes to accessories and items that you can take with you cycling, the list seems endless. One item that weighs nearly nothing and doesn't take up much room is a bandana. My cycling friend Richard uses a wet one under his helmet to cool himself off. I use one around my neck - dry, it keeps my neck warm and keeps the sun off and when it is really hot, soaking it in water turns it into an air conditioner.

A couple of years ago when my cycling buddy Roy and I were climbing the KVR to the top of the "Paulson Pass" between Castlegar and Christina Lake, we happened upon raspberry bushes lining the trail. Without dismounting, we gorged ourselves on the delicious berries and not wanting to stop too long since it was raining, there had to be a way of carrying the delicate fruit so that we could enjoy its crunchy, sharp flavours down the trail. Hence the bandana basket.

The bandana basket

Prior to the MS Tour, my daughter had made a batch of her excellent fuel - packed "Cosmic Power Cookies" and wanting to keep my bike as light as possible, I had nowhere to store them since I had taken off my panniers. The bandana basket to the rescue! I was able to enhance my riding performance by dipping into the "basket" at frequent intervals to recharge my tired and hungry body.

On a dusty trail, a bandana is an excellent way to filter out grimy particles and wearing it across your face does give you that bandit look which can be helpful on a lonley trail in warding off any unfriendly backwoods locals.

ON THIN ICE

2011-04-06T06:48:00.000-07:00

This transition from winter to spring has its own challenges. One of them being temperature control. I took my mittens off to take a picture of some ice and even though I still had my full-fingered cycling gloves on, my hands began to freeze. And yet when I got to my desk with my Timmy Ho's coffee and began to take off the many layers I wear, I noticed my neck was moist with sweat from wearing a neck tube. Not wearing a packsack on my back since I use saddlebags, I was surprised to find my back somewhat damp with perspiration. The hot black plasma I was sipping warmed my fingers but I found it necessary to take off my shoes to allow my feet to thaw.

I love breaking this stuff

While ice can be dangerous and I treat it with respect, I enjoy hearing the different sounds that riding on its surface can make. Since I was a kid, I've looked forward to finding what I call plate ice. This is the type of ice where the puddle begins to freeze over and as the water is still draining, a hollow is created. As my tires roll over it it makes a resounding CRANCH! as it shatters. Or you come across a small pool with a thin crust of ice on top and the tires make a ZIP ZIP sound as you cross over its surface.

When one rides a bike, it is necessary to pay attention all the time. Not only is there traffic and pedestrians to watch for (both can be unpredictable) but add ice to the mix and a moment can't be lost to fantasizing about an upcoming bike trip or thinking about the hot coffee you are soon to enjoy.

A treacherous glaze of ice

Spring is Sprung the Grass Ain't Rizz

2011-04-01T07:22:00.000-07:00

Our roads aren't quite as bad as this!

With the temperature hovering near 6 degrees Celsius, I was looking very much forward to my ride home after work. Downtown, the streets are clear of snow and ice, but only three blocks west of the city core, the residential streets with their towering, naked elms were a minefield of ponds, puddles and snowdrifts.

It was only necessary to stop once and that was to disrobe. I had seen a cyclist earlier wearing a short sleeved cycling shirt and cycling shorts and even though the weather was co-operating, I thought the guy was going a bit far. Yet nineteen blocks later, I found it necessary to pull over and take off my spandex pants and my regular shorts. As soon as I was up on the bike again, I congratulated myself on how smart I was to wear layers and my speed increased as I cooled off. My over - confidence must have increased as well because not long after, I happened upon a road filled with water. Having splashed my way through numerous puddles already, I dove right in (no pun intended).

While the water was deep enough to kiss my pedals, what I hadn't factored in was the slick ice underneath the lake. Six feet in it was "MAN DOWN!". Into the freezing cold, coffee and cream coloured water went I. This was the second time today that I had gotten soaked. Earlier in the day I taken it upon myself to climb into a swimming pool wearing only my shorts to film some children enjoying a swim class. I had looked at the instructor in the water and it came only to her mid thighs. What I didn't know is that this particular instructor was six feet, nine inches tall and when I stepped into the pool, the water quickly engulfed me to my armpits. At least it was warm.

I squished my way home and as the sun dipped behind some clouds, the temperature plummeted and a cold breeze began to blow. My soggy bike gloves offered no insulation and my sopping wet shoes began to freeze. But I can tell you that it was a pleasure to have a hot shower after stringing up my wet clothes around the house and after finishing in the bathroom, my senses were stimulated to a high degree by the extraordinary aromas wafting from the kitchen where my wife was preparing one of her mouth - watering stir frys.

BROKE SPOKE

2011-03-28T06:51:00.000-07:00

Fiberfix Emergency Spoke

Whenever my cycling buddy Roy and I pack for our annual cycling adventure (the last four years has been south central British California), we have a discussion about my packing an emergency spoke. Our conversation ususally goes something like this:
Roy - "Don't tell me your adding the extra weight to your already burgeoning saddlebags?"
Me - " Yeah, 3 ounces is going to make a big difference"
"I've never, ever broken a spoke"
"Just like in the 12 years you've owned that bike, you've never changed the chain!"
"When you buy the best then the best is going to last."
"Well, you just wait until we're 40 kilometers from the nearest bike store and we'll just see how far you can pedal on a broken spoke before all your spokes break and then we have to walk our bikes 40 k!"
"Never going to happen!"
At this point I'm thinking that if it were to happen that Roy breaks a spoke then he can kiss my a**.

In reality, my team spirit would kick in and he could use my emergency spoke which would save his wheel from extensive damage. Especially if it was a rear spoke. What with 20 - 30 pounds of camping crap on his back pannier rack, a broken spoke would be a fairly serious matter. If it happened to my bike with my 30 -40 pounds of crapola strapped above and around the rear wheel.....

There is a lot of debate about the causes of broken spokes and when I look at my friend Perry's bike and the way he rides that thing, I can't help but wonder if his broken spokes are caused by him sitting so close to the center of the rear wheel and that his spokes breaking aren't caused by improper weight distribution.

When I Googled "Broken Spokes", the internet spewed this:

...Also, I cannot stress enough the benefits from ponying up the dough to get a set of good quality hand-built wheels: they will save you a tremendous amount of weight, make your bike lighter by a factor of pi of the original weight savings, and also be stronger and more durable in the long run. On the issue of weight, if you spring for quality aluminum spoke nipples, you save a good 4 grams per nip compared to brass nips. Over the course of a 32 spoke wheel, this adds up to a savings of 128 grams, or 4.5 ounces. Now, because this is rotational weight, the actual amount of force required to get that mass moving is multiplied by the ratio of the wheel's diameter to it's circumference: pi. So just by going with alloy nips, you'll effectively be saving 13.5 ounces out of the weight of your bike, per wheel...

So I'll just pack my little plastic pill - container - sized emergency spoke kit and hope that neither Roy nor I experience a broke spoke when next we ride the Kettle Valley Railway. But if he breaks a spoke, I just know I'll have so much fun teasing him until I relent and help repair his wheel. I mean I had so much fun razzing him about the five hours we spent on three occasions last year fixing his flat tire in 30 degree + temperatures.

The opposite of +30 degrees

Can I quote you on that?

2011-03-24T07:03:00.000-07:00

It is unlikely that you would read this blog unless you had some amount of interest in bikes and biking and so I recommend a tome that relates an epic, 46,000 kilometer journey from Siberia to London, England with stops in Australia and Southeast Asia. The book is: "Cycling Home From Siberia" by Rob Lilwall

Each chapter begins with a pithy quote and just in case you don't read this book, I'll give you a taste with some of the quotes. If you plan on reading this publication, then the quotes might just whet your appetite!

Siberia...impends through the darkness as the ultimate unearthly abroad. The place from which you will not return
Colin Thubron

When I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think that there are no small things
Bruce Barton

I will go anywhere as long as it is forward
David Livingstone

I laugh in the face of danger, I drop icecubes down the vest of fear
Edmund Blackadder

We walk away from our dreams afraid that we may fail. Or worse yet, afraid we may succeed
Sean Connery in Finding Forester

One kind word can warm three winter months
Japanese Proverb

I thought of that while riding a bicycle
Alberta Einstein (on the theory of relativity)

It is and unnatural business to find yourself in a strange place with an underutilized brain and no particular reason for being there and eventually it makes you go a little crazy
Bill Bryson

Never,never,never give up
Winston Churchill

To get back my youth I would do anything in the world except take exercise, get up early, or be respectable.
Oscar Wilde

People don't take trips...trips take people John Steinbeck

Adventure Cycling

2011-03-21T06:49:00.000-07:00

Photo: Adventure Cycling Association

With the promise of spring (and its cycling!) in the air, I joined the Adventure Cycling Asssociation after breakfast this morning. It has been an idea that I've been toying with for some time and finally committed myself to joining. With 42,000 miles (how many klicks is that?) of routes to follow, it is easy when you're snowbound to dream of all the wonderful experiences when the call of the road becons.

We are part of the Americas and there are routes into Canada that are mapped and ready for the rubber to hit the road. Following the Great Divide north of the Montana border, the Canadian Great Divide route travels north to Jasper National Park. Anyone who has ridden the Icefield Parkway between Lake Louise and Jasper knows what awe-inspiring vistas greet the lucky two-wheel voyager on that particular stretch.

I like nothing better on a cold, snowy day than to sit in my comfy chair and thumb through catalogues and newsletters. I'm an avid reader so McNally Robinson's newsletter inspires me to read authors I have never tried. Lehmann's non-electric catalogue encourages thoughts of living in the country off the grid. Lee Valley's colourful, glossy pages evoke memories of working in the yard. And the Adventure Cycling's "Cyclosource" gives promise of happy trails using any of their hundreds of gizmos, implements, gear and cycling/camping accessories.

I'm too young and independant to consider a "supported" tour, although the ACA offers those types of outings. My self-supported cycling experiences on the Kettle Valley Railway have been successful and I look forward to this year's trip and all the things I'm going to learn about "Adventure Cycling"on that anticipated excursion.
If I'm not mistaken, 42,000 miles is the equivalent of 67,200 kilometers.

What Do You Make of That?

2011-03-16T06:25:00.000-07:00

Artwork by Kat

It is always a pleasant surprise to find out what people can craft from used bicycle parts. You could call it rebicycling. Taking something that was destined for the landfill and then using that item to make something something beautiful or prcatical.
Last evening, an avid year-round cyclist aquaintance of mine showed up at an outdoor picnic with a strange contraption strapped to her pannier rack. Knowing this lady and how handy she is, I wanted very much to find out what on earth was this? It struck me as looking like a woven quilt made from black suausages, about two feet long and 16 inches wide with a corrugated plastic bed.

Black sausage creation by: C.F.

Once she unfastened the contraption from her bike, she announced to one and all that this was her toboggan. Made from discarded bicycle innertubes, it did look like it might offer a comfortable ride down our many snowy slopes. I didn't look closely enough at the "toboggan" to detect how the inflated rubber tubes were fastened to the corroplast bed and my cycling chum did reflect that she would have preferred to use 20 inch tubes as the 24 inchers on the sled did hang over the rear of the craft. But still, a fine idea and probably a lot of fun. I might have tried it except I wasn't wearing enough winter clothing and I had a "Lemonade Chicken" in the slow cooker at home that needed my attention.

Jewellery by: Jan's Treasures

The above photo displays a necklace made from various bike parts and some copper wire. The smaller toothed wheel is a lockring from a rear cassette but the larger wheel I can't place. Any ideas?

Sales Job

2011-03-10T06:32:00.000-08:00

A sign of the times

A co-worker was in the mall yesterday and was handed a flyer for the "Ride to Conquer Cancer" which he brought back to the workplace and showed me. My colleague very much wants to do a bike tour but was dismayed to read that an entrant to the "Ride..." needs to raise a minimum of 25 hundred beans to qualify.

I tried not to be too enthusiastic about the MS Tour to Camrose and back. But I couldn't help myself. And I energetically described what the tour was like and that to enter, a person needs only to raise $275.00. A lot of riders that I've met on previous tours paid the 275 simoleons just to participate. Think about it. If you were to go away for the weekend and have everything taken care of for you (accomodation, food, entertainment etc.), you would undoubtably spend more than that.

Everything is taken care of for you by the MS Society. Raise $1,000.00 and they will partially dress you as well. In a very snappy Louis Garneau cycling shirt. Raise more and they will outfit you with matching cycling shorts to go with the shirt. As well, your safety is never a concern in that marshalls patrol the length of the tour on both days to ensure that everyone is safe. Pickup trucks (flaggin' wagons) connected by radio communication are there to pick up you and your bike should the tour prove to be too much for you. I found out last year in talking to one of the "slouch wagon" drivers that if you pull to the side of the road and take off your helmet, it is a clear signal that you wish to be picked up.

Every 15 klicks is a rest stop where fresh fruit, liquids and food are provided. Plus portapotties and United Cycle will be happy to make minor repairs to your bike. At the early rest stops, the lineups can be daunting (especially if you have to go) but as the tour progresses and riders spread out, you can usually have and do what you want without waiting.

Riders have started to spread out....

When you reach the finish line, volunteers will be there to cheer you in and a huge barn is provided to store your bike. The barn is locked up tight and has security as well. Then a huge banquet is prepared for you including live entertainment. Masseurs are on hand to unknot your muscles and moving trucks are there with your luggage all laid out in numerical order. A campground is located right at the finish line (away from the beer gardens) for you to pitch your tent.

Breaky is served the next morning starting at 6:30 and the trucks are ready and waiting for your luggage. The start of the second day is rather haphazard and the early birds really do catch the worm. Meaning that there won't be any crowding when you pull into a rest stop. Since I stay in a nearby motel, I have my bike with me and can leave the start line as soon as I scarf down b'fast.

In an effort to not oversell you, I'll leave you with this thought:

All you have to do is ride.

American Cheese

2011-03-08T08:11:00.000-08:00

At -23, I decided that it would be best to ride downstairs in the basement rather than outside. There is an area I have set aside in the basement for exercising which includes two bike set-ups and a weight lifting area. One of the bike set-ups is freestanding on top of rollers and the the other set-up is a stationary trainer. When I really want to concentrate on watching a movie while I ride, I choose the stationary option. If what I'm watching is not too exciting then I ride on top of the rollers.

It wasn't too long ago that I was watching "Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels" and the excitement on the screen was so stimulating that I rode off the rollers which in itself is no big deal except when you are travelling at 15 Kilometers an hour, the basement wall comes at you pretty darn quickly! If I crash into the entertainment center and DVD's fall to the floor or the remotes bounce around, my wife will call down to see if I'm okay.

Which brings me to a movie I partially watched while riding - "American Flyers". Starring Kevin Costner, the movie is a tale of a complicated relationship between two brothers. A love/hate thing going on there. Made in 1985, the movie for the most part is cheesyola. Hokey music, cellphones the size of walkietalkies a van the size of a school bus. But Kevin Costner has a state-of-the-art top loading VCR!

The plot is thin and usually I'm not one to figure out the outcomes of most movies I watch, however, even though I have yet to watch the "big race" part of the movie, I can already tell that the younger brother David, by his forced smile when watching a video of crowds cheeringa trophy wielding champion, will win the "big race" and who will be in the crowd cheering him on? None other than the hippy-girl he met at the McDonalds!

Abysmal

2011-03-04T06:28:00.000-08:00

Our city's streets are in an abysmal condition and I may have to complain to Silly Hall. From what I've heard on the radio, thousands have phoned in to voice their displeasure at the city's snow removal or lack thereof.

My commute last night wasn't too bad until I was half way home. Then the fit hit the shan. I walked a good part of the way home as I couldn't stay upright on my two wheeled steed. What incensed me the most was the fact that a seventeen block long bike path along 100 Avenue had not been cleared at all. A skinny, loosely packed trail made by pedestrians was the only path leading me home. So I switched over to the other side of the avenue where home owners had cleared the sidewalks. (I have a confession to make. In the winter I ride on the sidewalks even though it is against the law).

Riding on cleared sidewalks got me to thinking that the city can fine a property owner for not clearing the walks adjacent to their property - but what about citizens fining the city for not living up to their responsiblities and clearing their walks? As I rode along, I imagined a bylaw enforcement officer ticketing a property for not having their walks cleared and that owner organizing a movement to oppose such a blasphemous act. Citizens armed with protest signs converging on City Hall, residents out on the streets measuring the depth of snow on nearby sidewalks. Pencils in hand, scribbling infractions onto "CITY BYLAW INFRACTIONS" tickets and marching down to hand in the infractions to their councilperson.

I can see the Yahoo news story headline "Citizens Fine City For Lack of Snow Removal" as this movement gains in poularity and begins to spread across the nation. Sounds like something that would come out of California or Oregon.

Meanwhile I dodge snowbanks taller than my head and I duck underneath tree branches laden with tons of snow that with the merest twitch will send a cascade of ice cold snow down my neck. The ride takes twice as long as normal and after two hours, I'm happy to snag an "adult" drink out of the fridge and relax knowing I don't have to exercise this evening.

"Seek of Vinter"

2011-03-02T08:45:00.000-08:00

Oh man, is this winter ever going to end? Minus 20 temps and blowing snow. Today I'm at Bikeworks and the only phone call was someone inquiring if we had refurbished bikes for sale. But the person didn't want to come in right now to pick one out (too wintery)?
I took apart one bike (a Univega) and threw most of the parts away into the metal recycle bin. Keith (http://ravingbikefiend.com/) suggested that we keep the frame as it could be made up into a fine bike. Apparently, a Univega is just below a Miyata in quality. Who knew?

Bikeworks is a volunteer run community bike shop whose aim is to promote safe cycling in our fair city. I volunteer here as a mechanic and as such, the idea is to teach people how to fix their bike rather than fix it for them (as a for profit bike shop would do). When it gets incredibly busy here during cycling season, the temptation is to do the work for the person as it would be faster than teaching them how to do it. It can be stressful only because you want to help everyone that you possibly can during your 4 hour shift. You can't walk away from a bike to get a part or a tool without someone accosting you with a question or needing some advice.

So to sit up here in the loft where the office is and be working on this blog, chatting with Alex and Anna (two employees) and watching Keith clean his bike is a rare opportunity to volunteer in a relaxed fashion and one that I'm enjoying knowing that in only a month or so, when the majority of the snow has begun to melt that on the Sundays when I volunteer, it'll be 4 hours of pandemonium and then looking at all the money in my pockets and trying to decide if the 20 dollar bill was for a membership or for shop time. And the 2 five dollar bills - were they for the new chain I sold or were they for the knobby tire that that university student needed? What about the loose change - what was that for? Inevitably when I get home I find I still have a number eight wrench in one of my rear overall pockets that will have to be returned ASAP.

"Cracked Up Again"

2011-02-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

Just so it is understood - the young friend I mentioned in my last blog is in his mid to late twenties (not the age of 10 that is the demographic that "Cracked" is aiming for).

There's the seat

The web article pokes fun at bicycle seats and there is a grain of truth in what they say. I look at my own favourite seat - a hornless bike seat made by Spiderflex. I believe these seats are made in Manitoba which alone endears them to me (my twin lives in Manituba).

Like many cyclists, finding a comfortable seat is a challenge and like someone told me last year "You sit on anything for 8 hours and it's going to hurt!". Although sitting on the Spiderflex has been the most agreeable sitting arrangement I have ever found for biking. When the "Cracked" article correctly points out veins, tubes and nerves that shouldn't be squished, then a hornless bike seat looks very appealing.

I'll admit that it took some time to break in the Spiderflex and once I did, it works like a charm and keeps all the "Special parts" undisturbed. My cycling buddy Roy didn't like the Spiderflex - he said it felt like sitting on a piece of plywood. The company even offers a 30 day money-back guarantee - so you really have nothing to lose (except discomfort). Roy got his money back.

"Cracked Up"

2011-02-24T06:36:00.000-08:00

A young friend pointed out a web article that he found on the internet entitled "Five Reasons Riding A Bike Is A Most Humiliating Exercise". It is supposed to be funny (if you're a ten year old male) but it does give one pause for thought. A lot of things that cyclists take for granted are kind of weird.

Take for example attaching your feet to the bike pedals. Now there is a very logical reason for doing so. It increases pedalling efficiency. You not only push down on the pedal but you can pull up as well. I remember my first year of using "clipless" pedals and I had quite a few wipeouts when I wasn't able to unfasten my feet from my pedals fast enough when stopping. Turns out my adjustment was too tight. Since switching to higher quality Shimanos and loosening the "clips", I've had no problems.

The Cracked article makes fun of cycling shoes and when you look at them, they are rather specialized. Let's face it, they aren't meant for walking. They don't flex and they make a hell of a racket when walking on a hard surface.I do like walking into Timmy Ho's after my morning commute and I enjoy the looks I get from early morning coffee addicts startled my the loud clapping the soles of my biking shoes make on the tiled floor.

And the fun Cracked pokes at cycling shorts. They're right. When you really examine cycling shorts (especially the insides), they are strange as well. Can you think of any other situation that you would wear these garments? My wife says that the bright orange padding on my shorts looks like a babboons butt. I would agree with her if I wore the shorts inside out!

Cracked suggests that these shorts be worn "commando". That doesn't work for me. I was unhappy with my comfort level until I noticed on the MS Tour that women were wearing underclothing beneath their spandex shorts. I tried it and liked it. (Wearing the male version). Boxers are out of the question but you might want to try jockeys if you're a dude.

In my next blog I'll investigate some other aspects of the Cracked web article.....

Ready Already?

2011-02-19T21:22:00.000-08:00

Whenever I'm stymied by indecision about my bike, I go and seek professional advice. Usually, I seek out Merko or Doug, two experienced mechanics at United Cycle. This time Doug was available and the problem to be solved involved my as yet un-named red road bike.

In a previous blog it was mentioned that I had lots of trouble climbing out of the river valley at 149 Street and Doug and I considered the option of a "Granny" gear for the front chainring. But we decided that putting on a third ring would present shifting problems by putting the chain line out of whack.

Doug suggested that we put a new rear wheel on that had more cogs on the cassette and that wouldn't screw around with keeping the chain line straight. Another option was to buy another bike and since I haven't even broken this baby in, I didn't want to consider that possibility.

So I gave Doug the go-ahead and he did a fine job replacing the rear wheel and the mechanics at United Cycle always go that extra mile for me by doing a little more than what is expected of them. Doug set up the Modolo brakes and put more air in the front tire. Touches that I very much appreciated.

What prompted me to bring in the road bike was an email from the MS Society reminding me that the tour is not far away. The reminder about the tour also prompted me to book a room at the Marada Hotel - the hotel closest to to the finish line of day one and the start line of day two. As much as I like camping, when I do the tour, I want to shower in my own bathroom and have a nice bed to sleep in and I get to keep my bike in my room which means I don't have to scramble on the morning of day two looking for my bike in the bike barn.

I make all this sound well planned and controlled. In fact, when I got the email, I kind of woke up from my mid-winter slumber and went "Holy S**t! I've got things to do! I've got to raise $1,250.00 to get my jersey and qualify at the same time for the Mountain Tour!"

Riding Conditions

2011-02-16T06:33:00.000-08:00

What with all our melt/freeze/melt cycles, winter riding has become more like chancy spring riding. In fact, I promised my wife that with the slippery conditions I wouldn't ride to the bike co-op today. We had been out earlier for a walk and could hardly manage the slick sidewalks. Just other day, commuting to work, I lost my front wheel on the icy sidewalk in front of my old cycling buddy's house, just two doors down from my place.

Studded tires will only do so much and it is easy to become over-confident after many successful commutes. And there is every type of condition out there right now. From dry pavement to large snowy humps to series of frozen ridges. Slush too.

I ran into my winter cycling friend Rob the other day on my way home and after comparing the size of our (let's keep it clean) studs, we discussed riding conditions. When it came to slush - as Rob put it so well: "People complain about riding in slush. To me it means hope!". Hope springs eternal as they say. I'm getting pretty excited about the soon - to - come fair weather cycling season and starting to think about getting my two fair weather bikes ready for the season. The mountain bike (Furry Lewis) has a strange knock emanating from somewhere near the bottom bracket and after replacing the whole front cranks/chainrings/bottom bracket last year in preparation for the MS Mountain Tour, I'm praying that it doesn't need replacing. I wanted a sealed bottom bracket for the very reason that it is supposed to be maintenance-free.

My red road bike which I have yet to name, needs a granny gear. Climbing out of the river valley at 149 Street is well nigh impossible. And I don't think it is my conditioning. Last season, after nearly 3,000 km. of varied riding conditions, I still couldn't make it up that very steep incline at the western edge of the river valley trail system.

I realize that changing the front cranks/chainrings will affect everything else involved in the transmission but I'm willing to grind my way through the necessary adjustments to be able to climb steep slopes and besides, the MS Bike Tour is in June which is only 4 months away. There's training to be done!

Tricky stuff

But there I go, getting way ahead of myself. Given our northern location, we still have months of "winter" riding to do and lots of excitement negotiating our frozen highways and bi-ways.

Critical Mess

2011-02-09T06:38:00.000-08:00

We had just come up to ground level from the Westbahnhof underground station when a few hundred protesters rounded the corner and began to march down both lanes of traffic on Mariahilfer Strabe on a busy Friday night. We had no idea what they were shouting let alone what their cause may have been. Moments later, a dozen police vans, their blue lights flashing and filled to the brim with riot police pulled up right beside us. We stopped a couple of people to ask if they spoke English and if so, could they explain to us what was going on?

A young lady stepped forward and said that she was a university student and could speak English. January and February are the time of the year for balls in Vienna and this particular night the Neo Nazis were having a ball in one of the numerous palaces that dot this imperial city. The protesters had applied for a permit to demonstrate against this particular ball, but had been denied by the city. The protesters were angry and had decided to protest anyway.

The young student asked if she could join us in our walk to make it look as though she was our daughter/granddaughter. I suspected that she was part of the demonstration and didn't want to be arrested. Within moments, the riot police were swinging their clubs in the middle of the protesters and much to our shock the crowd of demonstrators and riot police were headed towards us. People began running in every direction to avoid being apprehended. Protesters were being thrown to the ground and cord cuffed while others were being frisked up against a wall not 3 meters from where we were cowering - hoping to be invisible.

It was at that point that we made a hasty retreat and removed ourselves from a situation that had threatening potential. Once it was safe, the girl left us and we put some distance between us and the fracas on the street. We hadn't gone more than two blocks when we could hear another disturbance behind us and we discovered a large group with signs on their backs taking over the street with their bikes. My first thought was that this was the Vienna chapter of CRITICAL MASS since it was the last Friday of the month. Not being able to decipher the message on their signs I was left wondering if these cyclists were protesting the Neo-Nazi ball in their own pedal powered way or if this was typical street theater in Vienna on a Friday night.

The Bike Rental

2011-02-04T06:41:00.000-08:00

All the guidebooks suggested that it was possible to rent a bike in Vienna and had I googled my interest I'm sure that a lot of options would have appeared. As it was, I managed to figure it out and enjoy a ride in "downtown" Vienna.

We had taken a "Yellow Tram Tour" of the center of this fine city and looking out the tram windows I spotted several kiosks of bikes labelled "City Bike" and thought to myself that this may be the answer I was looking for. I had to wait a couple of days for when I was exploring the city on mine own to be able to check out these "City Bikes".

Upon approaching the kiosk, it is a simple matter of registering using a credit card and then choosing the bike you wish to ride and when prompted, type in the number of the bike and remove it from where it is locked to the stationary rack.

One of the great things about this system is that you can return the bike to any "City Bike" kiosk throughout the city and as an extra bonus - if you return the bike within an hour it is free of charge! All you have to do is wait 15 minutes and you reregister and take a bike from the rack for another hour free! My kind of rental.

Never having visited a European city before, I was hesitant to get right into traffic and ride. And it turns out that my worries were needless in that Vienna has a whole system of paved, well marked bike routes. And as I mentioned in my previous blog, there are even traffic lights just for cyclists.

On the Yellow Tram tour I noticed a large park with a golden statue of Strauss at its center called Stadtpark and that is where I decided I could best ride around and not have to worry too much about pedestrians or traffic. Being the off season for tourism, the park was bare of crowds and I only saw the odd couple strolling about its grounds. A few people had gathered to take photos of the Strauss monument but otherwise I had the whole park to myself.

Once I got comfortable on the bike (a fixie), I managed to ride the whole park, crossing bridges and winding through narrow paths. I guess I could have taken a picture of the Strauss statue but quite honestly I was having enough of a job positioning my camera on any horizontal surface, setting the self timer, running to the bike, hopping on and then hoping to cross my carefully composed frame at just the right moment when the camera's timer went off. It was cold enough to kill the batteries and luckily I had carried some extra AA's in my MEC packsack otherwise my attempt at capturing myself renting and riding a bike in Vienna would have been thwarted.

Being the cheap bugger that I am, I dutifully returned the bike before the one hour period was up and I'm still wondering a week later if I stowed the bike properly otherwise when I open my Mastercard statement in the near future I may find a 600 Euro charge for not having returned the bike at all (that's like 900 beans). Although Vienna is not noted for its crime, I couldn't help but wonder if unscrupulous persons tug on each bike in hopes of finding one that isn't properly locked in and then making off with the free two wheel conveyance.

European Vacation Bike Thoughts

2011-02-01T04:19:00.000-08:00

Everywhere you looked, you would see bikes. Hundreds of them parked near the train platform at Paddington Station, locked in front of subway stations, left unlocked in front of coffee shops. Never having been to Europe, it was a pleasant surprise to experience bike friendly cultures.

Everywhere

I think the top sign says "One Way"

There are even traffic lights just for bikes

In my next blog I'll tell you about renting a bike in Vienna....

Faster This Time

2011-01-25T10:15:00.000-08:00

At - 5 degrees and a few more minutes of sunlight every day, it seemed again that it was going to be a fine commute. After donning a tank top, long sleeved cycling shirt, a hoodie, winter cycling pants, track pants and my cycling jacket plus of course gloves, a helmet and my neck tube , it was 5 after 5 and time to hit the bricks.

Since I ride on the sidewalks, there were still pedestrians to dodge and to try and circle around. Just before Mountain Equipment Co-op, the pedestrian ahead of me turned quickly to look at me and then he stepped aside. As I passed him he said "You sounded ominous!" and I didn't have time to tell him that it was just my studded tires making the unusual sound.

I wasn't much farther west when I came across an older lady on her way home from grocery shopping - to judge from the heavy laden grocery bags in each hand. The sidewalk had been cleared by a narrow snow blower and there was no way to pass her. Luckily, she stepped into a driveway to let me pass. Considering I'm not even supposed to be riding on the sidewalk, she was sincerely apologetic exclaiming "I had nowhere to go or I would have let you pass!" Such accommodating walkers!

The difference between the riding conditions before and after the halfway mark were still noticeable but not as pronounced as my previous ride home. While the city still hasn't cleared off the 14 block bike path, I was smart enough to simply cross the avenue and ride on the sidewalks on the north side of 100 ave. And I hit some deep brown sugar not far from my friend's house on 163 Street which caused me to dismount and push the bike 1/2 block to where the sidewalk resumes.

Large flakes of snow were falling making the trip that much more enjoyable and I appreciated their beauty as a way of distracting myself from the fact that eating only one Cliff bar wasn't enough to power me home. I ran out of gas at 170 Street and had to grind myself the rest of the way home. The thought of a cold Rye and Ginger also helped propel me to my goal and since I had the gingerale in an outside pocket of my knapsack, I knew it was going to be fairly cold and maybe I wouldn't have to fortify my drink with ice cubes.

I made it home 15 minutes faster than the night before and I attribute that decrease to 3 factors. I pushed myself a little harder, I had my route already figured out and whatever new snow had fallen during the day had been shoveled onto the already monstrous snowbanks.

Bikewriter's Blog

Kettle Trestles

Presto! Presta

All By Myself

This year's bikepacking trip

The Dream Board

Bicycle Mail

Cycle gifting

Last Ride of 2011

I Did It My Way

Merry Christmas and Thank You!

Proctor Townsend

Jingle All the Way (Part Two)

Jingle All the Way

I've got a Crush

A Sore A**

Lycra Spandex

Tire studding tips

Expect the Unexpected

Cycle reading

The Man Who Cycled the World

Lock It or Lose It

Studly Do-Right

Where Is That Stuff?

Critical Miss

Spokeconfusion

Bits and Pieces

Doing The City's Work

Of Bikes and Men

Tamsui Louie

A Whole Different World

Mr. Dressup

Tweed Indeed

Tweed Ride

You Don't Want To Be A Groom In Bridesville

British California Pie

Judgement Day

If It's Broke Then Fix It

The Champeen

Are We There Yet?

Trail Silliness

What's In A Name?

Mountain Tour Update

Almost Showtime

And we've got a Schwinner!

The Running of the Bulls

Take It Or Leave It

We Meet Butch Cassidy

The Country and Western Adventure

Less Than One Week To Go!

The Scenery Is Here - I wish You Were Beautiful

The Excitement Is Building

That Wasn't So Bad

One Night Stand

Signs Signs Everywhere a Sign

The Morning After

The Moor Of Venice

**WARNING**

Bike To The Symphony

It's A Foldey But A Goody

Earthworm Thruway

Yes We Have One Bandana

It's A Goldmine!!

Trainink

We are currently experiencing technical....

Unicycle MTB

The City Responds

MISSISSIPPI 'RED

On Your Marks, Get Set.....

The End Of the Story

The Flowers That Bloom In The Spring Tra - La

MS Tour Day 2 Revisited

Reprising the Reprise

BIKE TOUR REPRISE

THIS IS FURRY LEWIS

One Simple Item

ON THIN ICE

Spring is Sprung the Grass Ain't Rizz

BROKE SPOKE

Can I quote you on that?

WARNING