Summer adventures

Sticking to warm slopers on Pallet Knife, Font 7b+, Torridon


After I got back from Pabbay, there was only a few days before the West Highland Way race I had entered. I had spent most of the spring thinking there was no possibility whatsoever thatI’d be able to do it. My ankle had progressed a bit, then got worse, then much worse, then a bit better again. I’d get a few runs in for a couple of weeks, then have to stop for a few weeks, then attempt to start again.





My total mileage from January to the start of June was only just double the length of the race. Oh dear. However, during June I did manage a couple of weeks running 60 miles a week, so that was better than nothing. I mostly did shorter runs because that’s all my foot would allow me to. The longest was only 25 miles. But I could do 10K in under 40 minutes so I was definitely better than couch potato standard. I figured that even if I could only run 40 or 50 miles, I’d walk in the rest and call it a success under the circumstances.




However, on my last run before the race, I realised I was about to pay for trying to go from zero to fit in a few short weeks. The plantar fascia I tore in last year’s accident started to burn sharply and I knew it was over. Nevertheless, I showed up at the start line and ran the first 20 miles before limping into Balmaha, not leaving any doubt in my mind. I was upset. The experience has left a bigger scar in my mind than in my foot. Perhaps after another year, my foot will be in better form for running. At least I can give it a break and start from scratch again.



The trouble with these sorts of experiences is that they are a storm in a tea cup. In one part of your mind, it's really pretty upsetting. End of a little dream and all that. But to everyone else, it's no big deal. Life goes on. Lucky to be alive after the accident anyway etc.. All true. I guess I just haven't grown up enough to deal with such little frustrations. The scary thing is, I don't always feel like I want to.




So with that, my little diversion was consigned to the past, and two days later I was tied in at the foot of Conquistador E7 7a at the Loch Tollaidh crags. After a quick abseil brush and check of the gear, I decided to go for a flash attempt. I got through the initial boulder problem without any trouble. I felt pretty relaxed, and so I didn’t really notice the pump creeping in as I worked my way towards the second crux high on the route. This also went by without much trouble, but a sense of urgency suddenly hit me as I hung from a sloper trying to fiddle in a small RP. There were no footholds and so a bit of a grunt was required to pull over the final bulge into a face full of drizzle. The buzz was enough to clear some cobwebs and remind body and mind that it’s built for climbing steep rock.

















Alicia enjoying some perfect sandstone in Glen Torridon



The following day myself and Alicia toured the lovely sandstone of Torridon and worked projects in the Arisaig Cave. I went back just afterwards and found a kneebar which changed a Font 8a project into another classic 7Cish (it was pretty damp when I did it so maybe it’s be easier in fresh weather).




After that, A period of three difficult weeks began. More about that in a separate post.

Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta

Today was the last day of the balloon fiesta this year. I didn't get to see any balloons up close except for the one in the following post. These photos were taken about 8am.























































Darth Vader in the center















Wells Fargo Stagecoach

















And they were gone.

Durability of Unusual Finishes: Chrome Plating and Clear Powdercoat

This winter I've been riding some bikes with unusual finishes. My main ride is a clear powdercoated Brompton. There are also two chrome-plated bikes in my possession at the moment: a vintage Raleigh Tourist and a modern Bella Ciao. The idea of riding these bikes on salted winter roads has been met with some concern, and I've been asked to comment on how they are holding up.




To start with, I just want to say that chrome plating and clear powder coat are entirely different finishes, and I am by no means placing them in the same category. But the one thing they have in common is that they are unusual, which invites curiosity about their durability compared to paint.Unfortunately, I cannot address that question meaningfully. I didn't have the heart to experiment with the beautiful finishes, so I've been cleaning the bikes after every salty ride this winter. But in truth I am not sure how much this extra care is warranted.




When it comes to the chrome plated bikes, I am actually surprised by the concern for their durability. Chrome plating might be pretty, but its real purpose - as I understand it - is to make the frame more resistant to corrosion. Therefore, a chrome plated frame should require less, not more maintenance than a painted or powdercoated frame. Issues of cost aside, chrome plating should make for an excellent and entirely appropriate winter bike finish. For what it's worth, my chrome Raleigh Tourist is a 33-year-old bike that was well-ridden by its previous owner. The chromed frame shows less wear than a typical painted frame from that era, though a similar degree of component wear.




Clear powdercoat is a different story. Generally speaking, powdercoat is considered to be a more durable finish than liquid paint, which makes it a preferred choice for winter bikes. But clear powdercoat is tricky and may not be reliably rust-proof. Owners of clear-coated bikes have reported problems with corrosion. Rivendell used to offer clear-coated frames, but no longer does. Brompton at some point reformulated their raw lacquer finish to address corrosion issues. Today there are owners of clear-coated Bromptons who ride them in winter, and dealers seem to feel this is perfectly fine to do. I do not see any signs of rust on mine so far, although again - I've been cleaning it.I would notintentionally choose a clear powdercoat finish for a winter bike.




All things considered, I feel that (pigmented) powdercoat and liquid paint are more practical choices for a bike finish. Chrome plating is expensive and difficult to do properly. Clear powdercoat is reputed to be less durable.




Then again, there are bikes that do perfectly well with no finish at all. As an experiment, Henry Cutler of WorkCycles left his personal Fr8frame unpainted. For three years the bike was stored outdoors in Amsterdam's rainy saltwater climate. Over time the frame has developed a patina of surface rust, but it remains structurally fine. Go figure!

Beartooth Highway

Yesterday I took a break from sorting and deleting photos from my hard drive and decided to follow U.S. Highway 212 from Red Lodge, Montana south into northern Wyoming. This route is also known as the Beartooth Scenic Byway or the Beartooth All-American Road, and, according to an acquaintance, Charles Kuralt put this highway on his list of the top 10 spectacular drives in America. It is also the highest elevation highway in the Northern Rockies. And, it definitely lives up to its reputation!

Looking northeast from Rock Creek Vista Point (elevation 9,190 feet) in the Custer National Forest, Montana. The highway is that ribbon of white way down in the valley.

Looking northwest from Rock Creek Vista Point. The speed limit was 25 mph along this stretch of winding switchbacks that traveled up the south side of the mountains.

The view to the north, a short distance from Rock Creek Vista.

From Rock Creek Vista, the road continued upward and into Wyoming where the peaks were viewed from across wide-open meadows.

Stopping at almost every overlook along the way, I was taken by surprise when I saw this view as the lake was not visible from the road. The wind was quite strong and several times I had to brace myself when a big gust came along.

Taken from near the summit (elevation 10,947 feet at Beartooth Pass) in Wyoming, looking towards the north. It was windy and cold, and the short walk to get this picture was quite exhilarating.

Being lost in the woods…

...when it’s getting dark is not fun at all. Thankfully this section of Austerlitz forest is relatively small and we have the option to go back and take a different route through a nearby village. To prove the point, we had to retrace our tracks twice because we could not remember seeing the fallen pine tree on the road. It was getting dark and in another 10 minutes it will be pitch black in the forest. You never know, there could be a serial killer sheltering behind the iced bushes and trees waiting for his chance to slay. I know, macabre thoughts always come into the equation eh? Can’t help it, its automatic pilot when dire consternation is involved, plus it’s freezing cold, definitely not my choice of place to be stranded.

So trusting our instincts we followed the path we thought is best and indeed after several minutes we saw moving lights from a distance. Must be the main road! Ah, thank goodness we are almost there, we just need to figure out which side of the road the car was parked.

Here are a few fotos I took before nightfall:


Later we comforted ourselves at a bar café restaurant in the local village—De Jonck Vrouw, which reminds us of typical Dutch bruin cafes—traditionally styled with dark brown wooden interior and fixtures. This café has its own fireplace as well and we are lucky it was lit and a table in front was free. Nice! And so we had a snug place in front of the fireplace while outside is dark and cold. It’s not even half past 5 in the afternoon and it is already black.

January will be the month with the shortest daylight and the longest night time. The winter solstice has truly begun.

I had port and Dutchman had hot chocolate milk with whipped cream and a kransjes cookie (typical Dutch Christmas cookie). Very tempting to order a plate of cheese but settled instead for some nachos.

So that was our 26 of December, the second day of Christmas.


Visit Period: December

Destination: Austerlitz (Zeist - Utrecht), The Netherlands

Corning, New York

Today we visited Corning. It was very rainy and cloudy, but the town was still so pretty. From a local publication we picked up: Corning, New York is a small city with a cosmopolitan flair and a captivating history. Nestled in a river valley with steep hills, Corning is also a southern gateway into the beautiful Finger Lakes Region of Central New York. Corning is world renowned for its glassmaking past and present. Discover the art, history, and science of glass at the state of the art Corning Museum of Glass.

Unfinished Business: Wegetables I've Never Seen Before (5.10a)

(Photo: Adrian past the early cruxy face climbing on Wegetables (5.10a).)



I've been saving the subject of Wegetables (5.10a) for the end of the year. I could have posted about it some time ago. I tried the climb back on November 19. But on that day it didn't work out quite like I wanted it to and I wasn't really stoked to post about my failure to lead the route. After my botched, abortive effort, I hoped that I'd get back to Wegetables before the season ended and send the thing, making for the perfect little post about a 5.10 redpoint lead.



But it never happened. We were fortunate to have some relatively warm days in December, but it was still cold enough that whenever I made it back to the Gunks I craved the warmth of the sun. The idea of trooping down to the shady nooks of swampy Sleepy Hollow to climb Wegetables in the cold was unappealing to me, so I never got down there again.



And now the year is done. The child has grown, the dream is gone. Wegetables will have to wait.



But even if I can't tack on a happy ending, I can tell you what happened on November 19.



Wegetables has a reputation as a pretty soft 5.10. As Adrian and I approached the route, I thought I recalled reading that there is some face climbing with dicey pro down low, but that this climbing is 5.8-ish. So I wasn't too concerned. I expected the real challenge to come at the well-protected three-tiered set of roofs at the top of the pitch.



But once we arrived, I looked the route over and the face climbing seemed kind of tough. I saw a big reach right off the deck leading to some interesting-looking thin moves past a vertical seam that appeared to provide some truly marginal protection opportunities.



I got racked up and stepped up to make the first move... and I blew the first reach, just missing the jug and stumbling to the ground. In the process I somehow ripped up the middle and ring fingers of my right hand. Each finger now sported its own angry red gash and flap of loose skin.



After collecting myself, I taped up the two shredded fingers to stop the bleeding. As I did so I kept looking up at that thin seam, wondering if I could get anything good in there. And I started to wonder if I'd remembered the route backwards. Was the crux climbing actually not up high, but down low? Had I actually read that it was the roofs up top that had the 5.8 climbing? And if the crux climbing is where the bad pro is, did I really want to try this climb?



I started to get really bad vibes about Wegetables. Feeling spooked, I told Adrian I was giving it up. He could lead it, or we could just do something else.



Adrian decided to give it a try.



He got started and I was instantly glad I'd turned over the lead. Well, glad isn't really the word. I was sure I'd been right to give it up, but I was also a little concerned for Adrian. He made the initial reach without a problem, but the next moves were thin and his pro, two tiny nuts in some shallow scars, did not inspire confidence. He stepped up and down a few times, looking for better gear, and eventually placed above the nuts a microcam that neither of us liked. Only two of the four lobes were engaged.



Now I was more worried than before. I told Adrian that since he had this shitty cam above him, putting more rope in the system, he was at risk of a ground fall if he slipped and the cam pulled out.



He went ahead anyway, making the next move and then placing a good cam, allowing us both to breathe a little easier.



(I learned later from my sometime partner Parker that there's a great nut that goes in sideways in the Wegetables low crux. I hope to find this bomber placement when I get back to the route in .)





(Photo: Adrian in the roofs of Wegetables.)



Once Adrian was above the low crux, easy climbing led him to the overhangs. The rest of the way was straightforward, although it looked harder than 5.8 to me. Adrian found numerous placements, then got worn out and had to take a hang in the middle of the strenuous roofs. Then he finished it up, giving me the chance to try Wegetables on toprope.



I found the opening moves difficult, but I worked them out without a fall. I managed the roofs as well, sending the whole pitch on my first try after my initial stumble on the very first move, thereby salvaging a tiny bit of pride.





(Photo: Just past the low crux, posing as a toprope tough guy.)



It is a really good pitch. The low face climbing is unusual for the Gunks. It is beta-intensive and not especially hard once you work out the correct body positions. The climbing up top is completely obvious, by contrast, but much pumpier.



After I finished my first run on toprope we each took one more shot at the pitch. Adrian sent it this time around and I felt like it was significantly easier now that I'd figured out the moves. I was pretty sure I'd laid the proper foundation to come back and fire it off on the lead at some point in the near future.



I just hope I still remember my beta when I finally get back to the route. Wegetables is one of my main goals for early .

GREEK Easter Then

Dinner Is Served

Minnehaha Saddlebag: a Splendid Bargain

Riled up by the discussion in the comments section of this post, we caved in and bought a Minnehaha medium saddlebag from that place where it is on clearance [link removed since the item is no longer sold there].



The Co-Habitant attached it to his Raleigh DL-1 Roadster and it is a perfect match. Black canvas with tan leather straps - a simple, classic design. Those light strips are our own CatEye lights; they do not come with the bag.



We do not have pictures of the bag before the lights were attached, but above you can see it on our friend somervillain's beautiful Shogun (which I will be writing about soon). The Minnehaha looks as good on a stately 3-speed as it does on a regal randonneur.



The bag originally came with two reflective strips of fabric, attached to the leather straps via cords that resemble hair elastics (these are pictured above). The Co-Habitant removed these when he attached the lights, and now I will use them as actual reflective hair elastics when I cycle at night.



Side view of the Minnehaha on the Roadster. As you can see, the leather straps attach to the two saddle loops and to the seat post. If you prefer, the strap around the seat post could instead be secured to a rear rack, placing the bag at an upright angle.



The bag is voluminous. Dimensions are 11"W x 9"D x 9"H and it has a 10L capacity. A wooden support (visible inside, along the top) ensures that it will keep its shape. There is only one large compartment, which can be loosened or tightened via the cord shown in the picture.



The design is not complicated. It is basically a large, versatile bag that can be stuffed to the brim and will still look good. We have filled it with clothing, food, purchases, bottles of water, etc., and it has behaved very well. Attached in the manner shown, the bag is extremely stable and does not dangle. It also keeps its form even when empty.



One aspect of this bag worth noting, is that both the canvas and the leather come "unfinished", which some who purchase it may not realise. When treated with a water-repellent conditioner, the leather will turn a dark chestnut brown. So if you prefer that look over the black and tan, keep in mind that the bag will look that way once you treat it. We will probably do this eventually, but haven't had time yet.



As others have noted, the main drawback of the Minnehaha medium saddlebag is the location of its closure - which is so low that it's almost underneath the bag. One must either lean over or kneel in order to access it, and it's hard to see the buckles from either of those positions. The Co-Habitant also reports that he found it difficult to fasten the buckles at first, as the fit wasn't perfect - but over time everything stretched out and softened up and this difficulty subsided.



The final verdict on the Minnehaha medium saddlebag: We are very glad that we got it at the bargain price, and I highly doubt that anybody would regret that purchase. As for the retail price? Well, I still think it is a good value - simply because all bicycle bags are expensive nowadays, regardless of looks or quality, and even at full retail it is still less expensive than most. The Minnehaha bag is large, classic, and matches practically any bike. You can learn more about their full line-up here.

Oregon Inlet

While driving home from our trip, we enjoyed the scenery. I started to get emotional as we got closer to OBX. As soon as we hit the first bridge, I yelled out, "We're home".



I got really excited when we hit the Oregon Inlet, because I knew we were really close to home. I think the inlet is so beautiful. Something about the contrast of the blue water with the green and tan grass is just peaceful to me.

It has an interesting history too. From Wikipedia:



Oregon Inlet is an inlet along North Carolina's Outer Banks. It joins the Pamlico Sound with the Atlantic Ocean and separates Bodie Island from Pea Island, which are connected by a 2.5 mile bridge that spans the inlet. As one of the few access points to the ocean along this stretch of coast, Oregon Inlet is a major departure point for charter fishing trips, with a nearby harbor serving as the base for many large boats that travel miles out towards the Gulf Stream almost every day. The area is also home to a U.S. Coast Guard station.



Oregon Inlet was formed when a hurricane lashed the Outer Banks in 1846, separating Bodie Island from Pea Island. One ship that rode out that storm in Pamlico Sound was named the Oregon. After the storm the crew members of this ship were the first to tell those on the mainland about the inlet's formation. Hence, it has been known as Oregon Inlet ever since.

Akin to many other inlets along the Outer Banks, Oregon Inlet moves southward due to drifting sands during tides and storms. It has moved south over two miles since 1846, averaging around 66 feet per year.

It's just beautiful, isn't it?



Living the life in North Carolina!

Refurbishing Vintage Bicycles: Different Perspectives

[Manfred Dittler collection, image via waffenrad.at]

It has been so nice to see more and more people revamping vintage bicycles over the past several years, riding them, and sharing pictures with others. Seeing vintage bikes actively ridden and lovingly cared for feels as if history is "interacting" with our contemporary lives - reestablishing a sense of continuity that has been ruptured in many ways over the past several decades. But as the use of vintage bicycles grows more popular, it is worth noting that not everybody holds the same views on refurbishing them. For me, discovering these differences has been educational, and I will try to describe some of the approaches I have come across:



[Panther Damenrad, image via waffenrad.at]

The Full Restoration Approach

To "restore" a bicycle typically implies bringing it back to its former glory inasmuch as possible. If the bicycle is not in great cosmetic shape, then this may include re-painting the frame in a colour painstakingly matched to the original, finding new-old-stock original decals or replicas, and taking the trouble to locate well-preserved versions of the components and accessories, if the original ones cannot be cleaned up sufficiently well. The end goal is for the bicycle to resemble as closely as possible what it looked like when it was sold as new - be it the 1970s or the 1910s.



[Manufrance Hirondelle, image via collectvelo]

The All-Original Approach

In direct opposition to those who restore bicycles, are those who prefer to keep them all-original - meaning in whatever condition the bicycle was found. The reasoning behind this approach, is that a vintage bicycle is a piece of history and should be preserved in its found state. Some who adhere to this method will clean up the components and frame as much as possible - as long as it does not involve repainting or replacing anything on the bike. Others will take things to the extreme and literally leave the bicycle as is - including any dirt or rust that has accumulated on it. Somewill perform repairs, as long as the components remain original; while others believe that if the bicycle is not ridable without repairs, then that is how it should stay.



[somervillain's Shogun touring bike, image via lovely bicycle]

The Period-Appropriate Approach

This approach is somewhat similar to restoration, but is considerably more relaxed and is done with the intent for the bicycle to be ridden, not collected or exhibited. Those who prefer this method, typically clean up and refurbish the bicycle in a way that keeps its appearance period-appropriate without going so far as to replicate the original components, accessories and colour scheme. For example, the bicycle above has been repainted a soft blue - a traditional colour choice for vintage touring bikes, but not the original frame colour. The components selected are also traditional for the time period the owner wanted to evoke, but they are not the components that originally came with this bike. The period-appropriate approach is popular among those who want the bicycle to suit their tastes and riding style, while still paying homage to the era from which it came.



[Motobecane Super Mirage, imagevialovely bicycle]

The Updated Remix Approach

Some cyclists prefer to fit vintage frames with modern components - either in part or entirely. The reasoning behind this, is that while they may prefer the looks, ride quality, craftsmanship and other aspects of the older frames, newer components tend to be more comfortable and more convenient. This can include anything from using a modern style of handlebars, brake levers and cranks, to fitting the bicycle with clipless pedals and new high-tech lights. While the newer components are not even remotely original or period-correct, some owners will attempt to make the overall look of the bicycle harmonious. To others this does not matter so much, and they regard the vintage and modern mix as purely utilitarian. If I had to classify the current fixed gear modification trend (whereby parts of the frame are filed off and the bike is fitted with super-modern wheels and colourful components), it would go in this category as well. The degree of consideration that is given to the original frame is up to the owner.



[Jeunet porteur, image viasomervillain]

Over the past two years, I have spoken with vintage bicycle owners whose approaches run the full spectrum of these categories, and have at times been amazed by how strong views on this topic can be. Restorers are criticised for recklessly altering pieces of history. Those who keep vintage bikes original are criticised for not giving the bicycle a chance to "live again". Those who take the trouble to set up their bicycle in a period-appropriate manner are perceived as obsessive "retrogrouches." And those who put modern components on vintage frames are accused of butchering or "not caring enough" about vintage bikes. Personally, I can see the benefit in all methods, and I think that quite a lot depends on the bicycle itself - how rare and historically significant it is.The Co-Habitant and I have used the "updated remix" approach at least to some extent on most of our vintage bikes - but none so far have been historically valuable. What is your take on this, and what approaches have you used on your own bikes?