Cycling Destinations

image via chris531

For the past several years, I've had a dream cycling destination that I fantasise about incessantly: the Dark Hedges in the North of Ireland. Oh the Dark Hedges! What are they? Well technically, they are just a short stretch of country road near the coast of Couny Antrim. The road is lined with ancient beach trees, and these trees have grown so crooked and twisted that the overhanging branches have intertwined to form a magnificent canopy. Overgrown with moss, the whole thing has an enchanted, mystical look to it. I fell in love with this unseen piece of landscape the first time I saw a photograph of it, immediately imagining myself under the canopy as sunlight streamed through black branches and everything turned hundreds of shades of green. What happens next? I'm not sure, but something magical. Maybe if one is there at just the right time of day, the trees will talk to you, or the faeries will come out. And if you're there at the wrong time of day, you'll be turned into a tree yourself. With a name like Dark Hedges, an element of danger is to be expected.




As I got into cycling, it was only natural that I began to imagine visiting the Dark Hedges by bicycle. I have family in Ireland, and by this time last year I had developed a grandiose plan that involved visiting them, then taking a train north, disembarking once the "scenic parts" began, and cycling along the coast for hundreds of miles - through rolling green hills overlooking treacherous cliffs, and past the Giant's Causeway - until finally, exhausted and covered in road dust, I would arrive at the Dark Hedges and triumphantly cycle through them as their beauty and magic penetrated every fiber of my being.



I know. Some dream of crossing the Pyrenees and I dream of cycling through a cluster of hedges. Well, it's my fantasy!



While I had hoped my pilgrimage to the Dark Hedges would take place last year, obviously that did not happen. The more I began to look into it practically, the more confused I became as to how to arrange it. There was the question of getting my bike over there - which is so expensive and unpleasant, that at first I thought I'd be better off renting or borrowing a bicycle in Ireland. But on closer examination, it turned out that finding a roadbike to rent would actually be quite difficult, and cycling for hundreds of miles on an upright hybrid was not what I had in mind. And while I have friends there who are willing to lend me a bike, they live in the opposite direction from where I'd be heading, so the logistics would not work out. But the final blow that made me postpone planning this trip came when a couple of local acquaintances expressed skepticism about the idea, telling me that the drivers were awful and that all the good cycling was on the west, not the east coast. Hmm. Of course "awful" should be taken with a grain of salt, as they'd never cycled on the roads in the US and their basis for comparison is limited. Still, all of this taken together made me put the brakes on the idea until I could get a better sense of how to plan a trip like this.



Which brings me to a larger point: How does one go about planning a cycling trip to a place they've never been? There are many beautiful locations that are touted as cycling destinations, but the truth is that we do not really know how comfortable we will be with the terrain and road sharing culture until we are there. Having recently read about two cycling couples' experiences in New Zealand has further highlighted this problem. Localrandonneurs Pamela and John "Blayley" picked up andmoved to New Zealand in 2002, believing (after a great deal of research) that it would be a cyclist's paradise. What they discovered in practice however, was rather different and they ended up moving back to the US just 2 years later. More recently, Russ Roca and Laura Crawford of The Path Less Pedaled embarked on a tour of New Zealand - billed as "The Kiwi Chronicles," documented by the Bicycle Times, and meant to promote new Zealand as a cycling friendly destination. It was therefore a surprise to everyone when several days ago they experienced a road rage incident involving physical violence while cycling single file. The incident has sparked a media frenzy, challenging the portrayal of New Zealand as friendly or safe for bicyclists.



I have a number of acquaintances and colleagues who have gone on trips to their dream cycling destinations, and the feedback has been pretty mixed. Those who go to France and Italy seem to have better experiences overall. This may simply be because those routes are so well traveled that it is possible to do more thorough research and have a better idea of what to expect, and it may also be because both countries have a well developed cycling cultures. While to me, Ireland seems like the perfect place to cycle - with its rolling hills, beautiful scenery and rural roads - I have found comparatively few personal narratives allowing me to gauge what the particular route I am interested in would be like for someone of my skill level, and so I remain conflicted.What is your dream cycling destination, and how would you approach planning a trip to one?

Better Than New

When vintage bicycle collector Chris Sharp invited me to join a VCC ride in Northern Ireland, he also offered to lend me one of his pre-war roadsters and I gladly accepted. We corresponded about this for some time, and I arrived very curious what my loaner bike would be. Before the ride, Chris took me aside and told me he had something very special picked out. "I'd like to know what you think of it."





When he pointed out this bike across the yard, I admit I was a little surprised. It was certainly a nice bike. But considering some of the other machines in his impressive collection, there did not seem anything extraordinary about it: a plain black step-through with rod brakes.





"It's a 1941 Royal Enfield Sports Roadster, single speed, "Chris explained, studying my reaction. "I think you'll like it." Puzzled, I stood there looking at the bike as our group prepared to take off.






Aside from the original Brooks B18 saddle, I just didn't see anything remarkable about it. The drivetrain was in the right place. Nothing eccentric about the components. Ordinary lugwork. I didn't get it.





Furthermore, it occurred to me that riding a heavy ancient single speed with rod brakes was maybe just a tad ill advised in a hilly area with a group of people I'd never met before. Would I have to walk it uphill? Would I be able to stop downhill? But the ride began before I had time to dwell on these questions.






And that is when I learned what the mystery was, and what made this Royal Enfield so special: This bike was a rocket! A 45lb rocket, but a rocket nonetheless. It accelerated at the drop of a hat.It sailed effortlessly uphill. It plunged downhill.Its maneuverability and stability were impeccable.Riding through a stretch of rough gravel road, it rolled jauntily along as if on smooth asphalt.On top of that, the rod brakes actually worked, no worse than modern caliper brakes. "How are you liking that bike?" Chris would ask with a wink. But the answer was pretty clear, as for the entire ride I was in a state of permanent jaw-drop. How could something so old, clunky and seemingly ordinary handle like this?






Chris's theory is that this 1941 Royal Enfield happens to be an especially successful specimen of what was once known as the Sports Roadster: an upright model designed for leisure cycling, with more aggressive geometry and a shorter wheelbase than the more stately Roadster model. Raleigh made a Sports Roadster as well, as did most other English manufacturers of that time. The ladies' versions had straight step through frames, instead of the loop frames of the Roadster/Tourist bikes.





The following week, I paid Chris Sharp another visit and we went on a ride just the two of us. Once again I was given the Royal Enfield - I had to confirm whether my memory of how well it rode had been accurate. We were spectacularly unlucky with the weather that day, and it began to rain not long after we set off. Soon we were riding in a downpour, and by the time we decided to turn around, the shortest route back was 20 minutes. The rain was so bad we could hardly see in front of us.





I would never have imagined that I could ride a bike like the Royal Enfield in such weather, but it was fantastic. It handled no differently in the rain, and - perhaps most amazing of all - the rod brakes remained perfectly functional.





Really, these must be some magical rod brakes. Normally this type of brake is notorious for loss of functionality in wet conditions.







Overall, to say that I was impressed by this bicycle would be an understatement. "They don't make them like they used to" is a cliche I do not always agree with, but in this case it happens to be correct: I do not know of a modern step-through city bike that handles quite like this. Some come close, but this one wins nonetheless.






While a 1941 Royal Enfield Sports Roadster is a pretty obscure bicycle, my point is really more general. I've mentioned before that I tend to prefer the handling of vintage European strep-through city bikes to that of any contemporary version I have tried so far. In my experience, the older bikes tend to be not only more comfortable, but also faster - despite usually being at least as heavy and made of lower quality tubing. What was their secret? And why, with all our technology, can we not match - let alone improve upon - their ride quality today? It is a mystery that I would love to figure out some day.

Another Fun Night with Rich and Donna

It has been so great to have friends here at The Villages. It has given me someone to do things with during the day while Nathan works and it has also given us a fun couple to do things together with when Nathan is not working.



Tonight is a great example of that. First we went out to eat at Olive Garden tonight, enjoying their 2 for $25 special. Afterwards Rich and Donna invited us to their place this time, and Donna spoiled us with pumpkin cheesecake for desert. It was delicious!





I think we might have found a game that Rich enjoys, or at least tolerates for the rest of our sake. Nathan is hoping we will move to Rook shortly because that is his favorite card game. In the meantime, I am enjoying a game that I sometimes have a shot at winning.

Indian Lake Sunset

Thursday, August 4th - - For whatever reason (too many trees blocking the view, just not being in the right place, etc.) I haven't viewed a sunset full-on since leaving Indiana on July 12th! Tonight that “nasty” streak came to an end at Indian Lake State Park near Manistique on the Lake Michigan side of the Upper Peninsula.



Clouds. Calm Water. And a Setting Sun. It doesn't get much better than that!





8:45 pm



8:58 pm



9:04 pm



9:14 pm



9:20 pm



9:24 pm

Greetings from... Georgia

After I left Anastasia State Park and my visit with Denise, I headed a little further north into Georgia. I'm not going to say just where since I'm still there and will be until January 2nd.

It hasn't been nearly as warm these past 10 days as I'd like (daytime highs in the upper 50s and lower 60s and nightime lows in the upper 30s and lower 40s) but there have been a few very nice, warm days! And I'm not complaining, really, just saying... Still beats the winter weather in the Hoosier State!

A visit to my niece to see my new great-grandnephew was a highlight as was spending Christmas Day with Carrie and her family (though Jasmine and Valen weren't there). I just wanted to reassure everyone that wondered where I spent Christmas, that I was not alone, I was with family! And I thank you for your concern...

This will be my longest stay in any one spot since I left home in September. It's a little strange not to be on the move yet, but I wanted to get “settled” in somewhere for the holidays. I looked into staying in Florida but many of the State Parks were booked up for both Christmas and New Years. I guess the “big thing” in Florida and Georgia (and probably other southern states) is to go camping on holidays. I rather expected it during the summer holidays, but not this time of year. Guess it makes sense though, about as much as anything does.

This may be my last post of .. so I'd like to wish all of my readers a Happy New Year! May the coming year be the best ever for you, may your brick walls tumble, and may you enjoy health, happiness, and prosperity.

With that I'll leave you with a final sunset photo – actually, it is what I call the “after glow” of sunset, because the sun had already fallen below the horizon when this was taken (and the sun was off to the left outside the view of the camera). I'll tell you where it was taken once I leave this place...

Braking: Not Always Your Friend

The other day I was cycling on a busy road where the city has recently installed those raised-platform intersections to make the cars slow down before crosswalks. Ahead of me, I saw a cyclist brake just as she entered the intersection - probably hoping to reduce the impact of the bump. Watching her, I somehow knew what was going to happen next and winced. And then it happened: As her wheel hit the raised platform, her bicycle flipped over, and she with it. All this occurred at a slow enough speed, so that she wasn't hurt and was soon back on the bike. But I suspect that she has no idea why the fall happened, which means that it might happen to her again.

To me, it has always seemed self-evident that it is "bad" to brake while going over bumps, and watching the cyclist's fall confirmed that. But were there actually any facts behind this belief? I got home and looked it up, stumbling upon Sheldon Brown's explanation.

Bumpy surfaces. On rough surfaces, your wheels may actually bounce up into the air. If there is a chance of this, don't use the front brake. If you apply the front brake while the wheel is airborne, it will stop, and coming down on a stopped front wheel is a Very Bad Thing.

Okay, that makes sense. It has also since been pointed out to me that braking transfers the weight of the bicycle forward, so braking on the bump drives the front wheel right into it. Makes sense as well. So, we essentially have two forces working against us when braking over a bump.

When we find ourselves hurdling towards an obstacle n the road that we cannot avoid, naturally the reflex is to slow down. But this should be done before going over the said obstacle, not during. Braking is your friend, but only when done correctly (brake before the bump, then release before going over it). I would also venture to say that most casual cyclists who use handbrakes do not differentiate between front and rear.

Of course, this is just one more reason why I love coaster brakes for cycling in the city. If you're used to braking with a coaster brake in order to slow down, you do not rely on the front brake as much and are not likely to squeeze it while going over a bump. I know that some will not agree with me on that one, but that is how I see it, and the coaster brake has been a reliable ally for me in pothole-ridden Boston Metro.

Gunks Routes: CCK Direct (5.9)

(Photo: A free soloist-- obviously not me!-- on the famous white billboard face of CCK in August .)



One year ago in mid-March I was more fit than I'd been in a long time. But I was still tentative on the rock as the year began. I remember stumbling my way up Te Dum (5.7) for my first climb of the season, with the rock and the gear both feeling mysterious to me after the long, snowy winter.



I hoped this year would be different. I'd grown so much as a climber over the course of . And this year we didn't really have much of a winter. There was no huge layoff between climbing days.



I was encouraged about my prospects when I got out to climb on February 1. On that day I felt fine, romping up several moderates on what might turn out to be my last day in the Gunks with Adrian. (In an act of unspeakable betrayal he moved back to Vancouver at the end of February.)



I didn't push any limits that day but the rock felt good, the gear familiar. Was it possible that maybe I could begin this season where I left off last year, and not regress several grades?



I got the chance to find out for sure on Saturday, March 17, when I went climbing in the Gunks with Dana Bartlett.



Dana and I had never met in person before, but we had corresponded by email. I was already familiar with him from his regular contributions to gunks.com and mountainproject.com. I knew him to be a strong climber of long experience. I hoped we'd have a good time together and that I might learn a thing or two.



I was feeling good on Saturday morning, having climbed a bit the day before. It had been a crummy day on Friday, starting with rain, then fog and wet rock, finally drying out and becoming nice in the late afternoon. I was out with my friend Franz, who has climbed inside for years but who has almost no outdoor experience. Because the weather was so poor we mostly toproped in the Uberfall, but despite the very limited nature of our climbing day I still took some confidence from the fact that I felt so natural on the routes we did. My footwork was solid; I was climbing well.



I decided I should just pick a landmark climb and go for it on Saturday with Dana. I quickly settled on CCK Direct, one of the ultraclassic three-star 5.9 climbs I never got around to in .



When I proposed it to Dana in the parking lot he was enthusiastic, saying that from what he knew about my recent climbing history, I'd be fine on it. This was just the kind of encouragement I needed! We gathered up our stuff and headed off down the carriage road.



We set up at the base of Erect Direction (pitch one is 5.8) and I led upward. I thought back to , when I'd had one of my best-ever days at the Gunks with Liz, onsighting both the regular non-direct CCK (5.7+) and Bonnie's Roof (5.9). I'd begun that day too with Erect Direction, figuring it was good to start with a 5.8-- an easier warm-up would inevitably still feel difficult and might only lead me to question myself. When Erect Direction went well that day in it had set the stage for further success and I hoped it would do the same for me again on Saturday.



I think of the first pitch of Erect Direction as a solid 5.8. It doesn't have any particularly hard moves on it but it is steep and continuous. It has many thoughtful sections and is quite pumpy for a good two-thirds of the way to the GT Ledge. It is to my mind a slightly easier version of the classic 5.8 testpiece Double Crack. It is a high quality pitch, a destination in its own right with good pro despite a few loose blocks.



It went down like butter on Saturday, making me even more primed for CCK Direct.





(Photo: The one and only Dana Bartlett, topping out on the 5.8 pitch one of Erect Direction.)



There was no need to consult the guidebook about CCK Direct. It seemed clear to me where to go. The opening overhang, which Dick rates as 5.8 PG/R, was my main concern. The last thing I wanted to do was to start the day by going splat on the GT Ledge. I'd followed Adrian up this part of the route in , however, and I thought the moves were pretty straightforward. (On that occasion Adrian had finished on the standard 5.7+ CCK, so I hadn't previewed any more of the Direct version.) The pro was a little bit down and to the left as you pulled the first roof, but it wasn't that bad, I thought.



Before setting off I asked Dana if he had any advice, and he said that I should save my blue # 3 Camalot for the end of the pitch, and that I'd be really happy to have it at the final crux overhang. This turned out to be very helpful information!



I was ready. I had the clever idea of leading up to the horizontal beneath the first overhang, placing a cam immediately to protect me while I leaned over, and then putting in another cam as far over to the right as I could reach. Then I back-cleaned the first cam and stepped down to move across to the actual moves.



This worked out well, but I probably should have put in two pieces when I leaned over instead of one. I later regretted having only a single piece between myself and the anchor when I did the first crux.



In any event I made it through the first overhang with no issues and breathed a sigh of relief.



I messed up heading into crux number two, the overhangs below the white billboard-like CCK face. I headed up a little too far to the left. I reached the bottom of the billboard, looked up and saw no holds, then looked to the right and saw all the chalk I'd neglected to follow. This caused me to panic for just a second.



I was getting pumped and there was no time to waste. I quickly downclimbed to my last cam, regrouped and headed back up the correct way. I'm sure this part of the pitch is really 5.7 or 5.8, but I made it harder for myself with my route-finding mistake. Luckily, once I pulled over the overhangs and found myself standing beneath the famous CCK crack, I could relax, clip a fixed tricam and shake it all out.



And then I had to shift gears from the jug-hauling overhangs to the exposed off-vertical thin climbing required by the CCK face. A few beautiful moves later, I was at the top of the crack, where one grunty pull got me above the billboard and below the huge roof at the top of the cliff.



The final challenge was still to come. To my surprise it turned out to be more mental than physical. It is so comfortable in that little alcove beneath the overhang, and the hold that takes you left to the exit notch is so small, you don't want to move! You can see a jug out further left and up, but it appears you have to step down and out left to get there. As you test the little hold over and over again, considering the move, it seems like you are taking a leap into the abyss. The footholds disappear. The exposure is insane.



I must have tested the hold a dozen times. I considered any alternative I could think of. There is chalk on some tiny horizontal cracks above, but I couldn't use them. Eventually I had to take the leap, step down and over, and trust I'd find whatever I needed when I got out there.



I needn't have been so worried. The pro was good. Once I finally made the step, I had the jug in a second. One more move up and I could slam in my blue Camalot. (Thank you Dana!) And then the biggest move of the pitch took me over the final overhanging block to the top.



What a way to start the season! I think CCK Direct may be the best pitch I have ever climbed. The good stuff just keeps coming and coming. After the steepness of two overhangs you have to deal with a totally new challenge, the thin sequence to get established in the perfect crack up that blank CCK face. The moves and the position are sublime. But it isn't over! The final crux notch puts the cherry on the cake.



Last fall I would have viewed this pitch as a fitting capper for the whole year. I'm so psyched to begin the season with such a great milestone.