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first impressions

Honeyman State Park

A short walk from the campground and through the forest leads to this beautiful little lake surrounded by the forest and sand dunes. Double-click on the image to see a larger version... it is a portion of a panoramic view that doesn't quite capture the full beauty and serenity of the place, but does a pretty good job of it!





I sat up on top of this sand dune for several hours, listening to the quiet. The only other people around were those two youngsters at the edge of the water, far below. Optical illusion? After looking at this image for awhile, it is hard to tell whether you are looking down toward water, or up toward sky, either way, it was a long way up/down.





As the sun lowered toward the horizon I left my gorgeous viewpoint and ventured down to the small lake.





Jessie M. Honeyman Memorial State ParkSouth of Florence, OregonSeptember 29, ..

Cycling without Fear

I talk to a lot of beginner cyclists who are afraid to ride on the road. Some try to conquer their fears by riding anyway, only to find that they end up being more afraid, not less. The proximity of the passing cars frightens them so much, that their bike handling suffers. This in turn makes them more likely to experience close calls and drivers honking at them, terrifying them even more. It becomes a vicious cycle.




Fear is a nasty, crippling emotion. I don't mean the philosophical kind, where you are thinking "Gee I don't think I can handle this." What I mean is the visceral kind: that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, adrenaline, heart racing,trembling, weak at the knees. It is debilitating and difficult to control. But it can be avoided.




If an aspect of cycling scares you at a strong visceral level, my suggestion would be to take it down a notch - to a point where you do not experience the fear - and work from there. If cycling on busy roads gives you panic attacks, try riding on quiet side streets exclusively, until that feels so comfortable that you are ready for the next step. If even that is too much, stick to bike paths, parks and empty lots until you are ready for side streets. If your neighbourhood has none of these things, try riding in the middle of the night or very early morning (with good lights of course). Even in a busy city, the roads will be nearly empty. Whatever it takes, find a way to ride so that you are relaxed and not in panic mode. I would apply this to every aspect of cycling - from riding for transportation, to learning new skills, to trying drop bars, clipless pedals, and riding off road.




It's also important to understand that when we ride with friends and spouses, their level of comfort may be very different from ours. Without meaning any harm, they might coax or pressure us to do things we cannot handle. When we are ready for it, being encouraged to push ourselves can be a good thing. I've certainly received more than a couple of nudges that were helpful. But overcoming nervousness or timidity is one thing. Intense, limbs-atremble fear is not good and can affect our behaviour in unpredictable ways. It is our responsibility to know the difference.




Conquering one's fears is a worthwhile endeavor. But it takes time and there is more than one way to approach it. In my experience, those who find cycling more frightening than enjoyable, stop cycling. Therefore, I suggest sticking to riding in a way that feels fun and avoiding riding in a way that feels terrifying. Cycling should be a positive experience.

Low Trail Madness

While I've wished for this to happen, I doubted that it actually would: Low trail, 650B bicycles entering into standard production. But the day has arrived, and it arrived with an email from Soma Fabrications. An e-buddy of mine over there informs me that they will soon release a "Grand Randonneur" model, co-designed with Boulder Bicycles/Rene Herse."Is this public knowledge?" I asked, wiping the spray of coffee off my keyboard. Not really, was the reply, but I was welcome to make it such. "Just note that it’s still unofficial, and some of the details may change before production." Noted. Oh, and do I want to test-ride the prototype once it's ready? As if they had to ask.




The Soma announcement came on the heels of Rawland's release of the Stag: a model similar to the Nordavinden, only with slightly different specs. The pre-order pricetag is $625 including a free set of Pacenti PL23 rims. I imagine Soma will try to get its pricepoint in the same range. Adding the $500 Velo Orange Polyvalentto the mix, that gives us 3 manufacturers offering standard production low trail 650B framesets, made in Taiwan, for well under $1,000.




For those who prefer a US-made bike, there are several pre-fab models available in the $1,500 range, including the Box Dog Pelican, the Boulder Randonneur, and most recently the Rambler from Ocean Air Cycles.If you've ever wanted to try a bike like this without the wait, uncertainty and pricetag of going full custom, there are options.






But speaking of custom, more and more framebuilders are testing the waters with low trail 650B designs and some of the names may surprise you. As I write this, I am eying a fresh-off-the-boat prototype frameset from Mercian Cycles in England that was built to my spec. (For the record, they are skeptical of the low trail design, so if the bike doesn't ride well I take full responsibility.) Equally surprising is that Seven Cyclesare willing to give it a go, in titanium of course. Jokingly I asked them about it a little while ago, and the reply was "Let's talk."




So what's so special about low trail? In a sense, nothing, and that's sort of the point. Some of us simply believe it to be a "normal" geometry just like any other that happens to be useful in some contexts and beneficial for some riders. This does not mean that it's special or better, but only that we feel it ought to exist as a viable option. Personally, I've come to appreciate the feel of low trail on city bikes, as well as on fat tire bikes ridden on dirt; the combination of how responsive and at the same time intuitive these bikes feel intrigues me. But of course not everyone agrees. The husband tolerates low trail on his Brompton, because he finds the bike handy, but dislikes it on roadbikes. And framebuilder Mike Flanigan - tempted to try the Rawland after I raved about its handling - just smiled and shook his head after his ride: "Nope, still don't like low trail" - though he's made a few for customers, and continues to do so.




Is low trail design a fad that will seem silly in hindsight, or an enduring trend that is here to stay? We'll just have to wait and see.

Yellow Lillies

Some photos of the yellow lillies that I grew on my sunroom this spring. These have grown from their bulbs, and bloomed and gone, but the orange ones have barely started to grow. Wonder what the difference was since I bought at the same store, same brand and planted at the same time? Well at least these were pretty.

Racing, Spectating and the Human Factor

Two summers ago in Vienna I was fortunate to meet retired professional bicycle racer Kurt Schneider. Now in his 80s, he remains active on the Austrian racing scene in a supporting role, a local personality. A mutual friend introduced us, arranging to meet at Kurt's favourite tavern in the outskirts of the city. I expected it to be a reserved, formal encounter. I arrived to find a relaxed and stunningly energetic man laughing with the waitress, drinking wine, wearing a yellow Livestrong bracelet. We talked about his racing career and his thoughts on various topics, and it was utterly engaging. But even more than the content of that conversation I remember the ever-present twinkle in his eye, the overwhelming charm he exuded. By the end of the evening I was practically sitting on his lap. It was unbelievable. For me it is people like this who make the sport come alive.




As a spectator, my interest in bicycle racing is oddly selective. I notice for instance that I am more drawn to the local racing scene than to the international pro stuff. The more real the person is to me, the more meaning their racing efforts hold. I am in awe of some of the amateur racers I've met in the Boston area. Their physique, their demeanor, their very presence make me "feel" the sport, and I get genuinely excited about it. I love to watch them, and I follow their results with interest. And yet I do not find it terribly exciting to watch professional racing on television. I don't know what it is, but today's big names seem like sterile corporate identities to me. I sense no fire or magical charisma in their personas. I cannot get myself to care about their results or their doping scandals. Maybe it is a matter of not having met them in person. Maybe I am just not into the sport enough to understand. And maybe professional racing is just different now than it was in Kurt Schneider's time. As a spectator, I want more of the human factor, the charisma, the twinkle in the eye.

Pets at Work

Every time I visit Circle A Cycles, I sift through my pictures of the shop afterward only to discover that they are mostly cat portraits. But who can blame me, when they have such a fabulous shop cat. BT's job is mainly reception, customer serviceand PR. When it comes to being petted, she is an equal-opportunity practitioner - diligently making her way from one visitor to another, ensuring that everyone gets their fair share of stroking her silky fur and scratching her velvety ears. When this task is done, she slinks around delicately amidst the machinery, inspecting the quality of her colleagues' work.




I've tried to invite my own cats into my workspace. There was that one time I attempted to have them in the same room while I painted. Minutes later, they'd already managed to dip their little paws into some paint, and were now proceeding to spread it around the entire room while swatting brushes off of shelves and batting at jars of turpentine playfully. Oh how I paid for their visit with hours of cleanup. Oh how they squirmed and squealed as I quarantined them in the bathtub and scrubbed their paws with soap.




On another occasion, I tried to scan negatives around my whiskered friends. Their curiosity in this task made the scanning process unnecessary, since the strip of negatives was quickly rendered unusable.




Working on bikes in the same room is excitingly risky. They are intensely interested and make a show out of being very good, so that I allow them to be there. And they are good, up to a point. Until a particularly attractive part catches their eye and they challenge each other to a soccer match. The speed and elegance with which they can cause damage are admittedly impressive.




I can work from home on my laptop, but just barely. The cats like to stealthily make their way onto the table and slowly wrap themselves around the keyboard, until both my wrists are resting on some part of cat and my typing is constricted. "At least help me type if you're going to do that," I try to reason with them. They ignore me, purring triumphantly. Later a friend explained that this really is their way of helping me write: The purring functions as a metronome of sorts that helps me keep rhythm and type faster.Shop cats they are not, but perhaps I underestimate their value as office cats.