The Provincetown School of Vehicular Cycling

We often take daytrips to the Cape in the summer, but avoid Provincetown, because it is both too far and much too crowded. However, last week we stopped by. For those unfamiliar with the area, Provincetown is a lively and quirky town at the very tip of Cape Cod, long associated with the arts and with freedom of sexual expression. The main street is lined with galleries, coffee houses, excellent restaurants, eccentric shops, theaters, piano lounges and dance clubs. Rainbow flags are aflutter. Tourists pose to have their pictures taken with drag queens. Ocean waves rise picturesquely in the background. Everything is relaxed and easy; everyone gets along.



We arrived with our vintage 3-speeds and found the town center absolutely packed. The photos don't capture this, but many parts of the long and narrow Commercial Street were filled shoulder to shoulder with pedestrians and bumper to bumper with cars. It did not look like we could walk through the center, let alone cycle. And yet, the place was full of cyclists. They were riding in both directions through the narrow street, blithely passing the slow cars and the meandering pedestrians with dogs and strollers. We got on our bicycles, and what an educational experience it was.



Imagine: Cars pay attention to bicycles and wait for them without getting angry about it. Drivers and passengers look before opening the doors of parked cars. Cyclists are non-belligerent. Phrases such as "Please, go right ahead!" and "Oh, sorry about that!" and "Thanks!" and "Hey, nice bike!" can be heard all around instead of what is normally shouted in Boston. Can this be Vehicular Cycling Heaven? Cycling in Provincetown - both through the center and through the wider roads with higher speed limits - has made me feel considerably more comfortable about sharing the road with cars.



We did not take many bike photos, but here are a few bicycles spotted in town. A colourful Electra Amsterdam with nice wicker panniers and a sunflower on the handlebars. I believe it belongs to a local painter.



And here is a Rivendell Rambouillet by the marina, complete with fenders, Brooks saddle, rack, lights, and handlebar bag. The owner was pleased and amused that I recognised his bike.



And finally, a solution to the "control issue" in tandem cycling: The Buddy Bike! Now both riders can feel like captains - though I assume this can only be done if the riders are roughly of the same weight.



For more about cycling in P-Town, read about Vee's bike date at Suburban Bike Mama.

Climbing Muscles? Perhaps

When I began to do long hilly rides, I acquired a nemesis: the Mysterious Pain. This pain would get me even when my legs were strong and my energy levels were high. It would get me when least expected, ruining countless rides and limiting my progress.




I have never experienced anything quite like it before. It wasn't so much of a pain even, as an alarming sensation of seizing, not so much in my lower back as below it. If you draw an imaginary horizontal line perpendicular to the top of the butt crack, the sensation was along that line, in two distinct spots on the left and right, symmetrical.




The first time I experienced it in earnest was during a 100 mile overnight ride to Maineearly last summer. It came on around mile 70 and was so debilitating I had to stop on the side of the road and stretch every 10 miles to keep going.




Mystery pains are a source of fascination to cyclists, and I talked about mine with a slew of local riders. At the time the consensus was that I had increased my milage too quickly and hadn't the upper body strength to handle it. So I spent the rest of the summer sticking to sub-100K rides, but doing them with more frequency to build up strength and muscle tone. I am not sure this had any effect. It may have worked subtly, but at the time I felt somewhat stagnant and dispirited. I wanted, very badly, to do longer rides. And I felt strong; my legs would seldom get tired on a bike. But this strange pain/ seizing sensation was like a brick wall I kept hitting:No sooner would I attempt a long ride with lots of climbing, it would return.




This Spring I began riding more than ever. Short rides, long rides, paved rides, dirt rides, club rides, brevets... I thought I was riding a lot before, but now I was practically living on my bike. Disappointingly, the mystery pain was still there - though I'd now learned to manage it with strategically timed stops and stretching. On the 200K brevet, I'd pull over on the side of the road every so many miles so that I could bend over backwards and do some quick twists before continuing. That was all it took to stop the discomfort for the next so many miles, so stopping was better than not stopping: If I did nothing about it and continued riding it would only slow me down.




Having witnessed this riding next to me on the 200K, my friend Pamela suggested that the problem could be insufficiently developed "climbing muscles" - something she herself had experienced at one time. Rather than related to distance, the discomfort could be brought on by long stretches of climbing - which are of course more likely to occur on long distance rides.




There were other suggestions from riding companions at this time: That my gears were too high. That my saddle was too hard. That my position on the bike was too aggressive. And that climbing seated was the real issue.




At that point I decided to take an aggressive approach and try everything. The suggestion that my roadbike position was causing the discomfort worried me, because I otherwise found it so comfortable. But a few strategic rides helped me eliminate that as the cause: I was able to bring about the same pain on more upright bikes (even my Brompton) if I used higher gears when climbing for a prolonged period of time. So gearing had a lot more to do with it than position. I now also knew for certain that the source of the problem wasn't the long distance, but the long, repeated climbs. In Ireland I found that I could bring about the pain within as little as 20 miles, if they were "quality miles" with respect to elevation gain.




In short, the climbing muscles diagnosis seemed the most probable. But how to develop them? I was not willing to go to the gym to work on my "core," and so far just continuing to ride the way I'd been wasn't helping.




Staying in Ireland took care of the problem. Here I did not continue to ride the way I'd been, but, with some guidance, began to do more focused riding - both faster and with more climbing - on a more or less daily basis. I learned how to use gears more efficiently. And I also finally learned how to stand out of the saddleand began practicing that every ride.




One result of all this has been a subtle, but significant transformation to my body within a very short time period. The changes to my legs did not surprise me - after all, that is what we expect from cycling. But I did not expect the changes to my midriff. My abdomen has gone flat and there are these weird thin horizontal muscles wrapping around the sides of my torso, front and back - where the "love handles" used to be,if you will. I have never had muscle definition in this area before, and it all looks and feels absolutely bizarre, as if my body isn't really mine.But existential analyses aside, whatever's happened it has solved the mystery pain problem. No more. It's just gone - regardless of whether I climb standing or seated, in a low gear or high. Just to make sure, this past week I've made it a point to do hilly rides without getting out of the saddle at all, like in the old days (meaning entire months ago). But that seizing sensation below the lower back is now just a memory.




So... climbing muscles. What are they exactly? I imagine some combination of abdominal and lower back muscles. For some they might be naturally well developed. For most they are probably average. And for some, like myself, they could be underdeveloped - requiring lots of work to get up to par. Happily, I love riding and doing this "work." And I love it that this limitation is finally gone.

Trillium flexipes

Trillium flexipes blooms concurrent with the emergence of poison ivy in this area.



The flowers aren't always standing up proud like this one -- sometimes they're considerably more droopy.



But the more erect version is generally considered "standard". People generally like it better, at any rate, when they don't have to go poking under the leaves to find the flowers.



The flowers never point up though - always out or down.

I like to note botanical names of things here, but most of the time I have to look them up. I'd love to go around referring to everything in Latin, but honestly, I haven't committed many of those names to memory. Except with Trilliums.

This flower's most common everyday name is Bent Trillium, though I've often seen it referred to as Nodding Trillium, Drooping Trillium, or White Trillium. But there are two other similar Trilliums (rugelii and cernuum) that are also sometimes called by the very same common names. I do like the evocative terms Toadshade and Wakerobin, and if they were used consistently I'd be happy to employ them. But to avoid getting lost in the common name mire it's always best to use Latin for Trilliums.

Most of the maps don't show this Trillium here. Flowers don't read maps though, and I've found Trilliums to be poorly mapped in general. That USDA distribution site pretends to take reports, but in my experience they just ignore them.

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Nice Trillium reference page here.

The Snowbirds Are Arriving

I've noticed this past week that the park is beginning to really fill in. I joked with Nathan that is must have turned cold everywhere else this past week. While I joked about it, it does tend to work that way. People stay further north until the cold drives them here. We would normally do the same thing. In fact, this is probably the earliest we have arrived in Florida and been able to watch as others trickled in.



The nice part about the park getting fuller, is that there are more pickleball players. I can't play on the mornings I work, and Nathan can't play weekdays. We have tried to play some on our days off.





It has been hot this past week, which means it is hard to play pickleball for very long without being exhausted. So I'm somewhat glad for the excuse of playing in the late afternoon most days. Donna works days, so she has been joining us at night too. Art and Heddy usually join us and they are great fun to play with. Julie joined us when she was here. And today one of my favorite people, Karen, joined us. We have had some great games because of the people that are playing.



Notice the low flying plane in the one picture. I'm not sure why he was flying so low, but I already had my phone out taking pictures so I went ahead and snapped the shot.



Austin and I saw a double rainbow while out and about today, and he tried to capture it with my phone. Can you see it?



Living the life in Sunny and Hot Florida!

Pyrgos, once capital of Santorini

Santorini is a very windy island and the motorbike is not really encouraged at all but many locals use this transport because the island is so small and riding around in a motorbike is the easiest and most efficient way of reaching point A to point B.



Right in the middle of the island stands this white mountain and from a distance it looks like a mound of salt or a whipped cream topping. White is theme of this place. A white village. White houses. White roads. White staircases. White walls. Yes, this is a white mountain village and everything is white here.



Moi in sitting in front of a Greek Orthodox Church. On the second foto, the little white crop mountain from a distance is Pyrgos.



So we checked the map to see the name of the village. It says Pyrgos. The little unspoiled white town with 500 inhabitants used to be the capital of Santorini. Upon closer look, I noticed that the stonewalls rounding up the mountain resembles that of a wreckage of an ancient castle. The village was built around the Venetian castle that now lies in ruins.



I did my customary exploration, getting lost in the narrow white winding alleys and being surprised at the pretty architecture in every corner that I turn to. The Dutchman on the other hand followed me obediently until he finally declared he has had enough and will be going back down to the rotunda where the square is located. OK fine. I went up further up, mounting on the steps, always curious what is there above waiting for me =)



While going up, I saw an old man resting, rather sleeping, on the steps leading to the castle ruins. He has 2 donkeys tied to a tree and on the little square he has some products placed on top of the table for sale: house wine, some grappa, and tomatoes as well. He was sleeping soundly like a little baby and I didn’t want to disturb him so I tip-toed passing by slowly.



When I reached the top I realized there was no castle. I mean no physical castle, just ruins and walls, and houses inspired by the Cycladic architecture that were built on the crest and around it. It was quite charming though because the ruins were left on its own, just leaving it as it is side by side with the new occupants.



I also found a café restaurant and a church, and from up there were beautiful views of the plateau. It was a perfect place to sit down and relax. I was actually quite tempted to order a drink and just savour the ambiance, but then I remembered that I am with the Dutchman who is waiting for me down at the rotunda square. Jammer.



Here are some fotos:



Such little door, wonder what its function.



It is very charming here, the little narrow streets and stairs leading to houses and churches.



White everywhere and the plateau towards Kamari, in the southern part of the island



On the right foto is an example of a Cycladic house.



The old man napping on the steps leading to the castle ruins.



His donkeys under the shade.



The old man's little store on the small square, and signs to the castle ruins.



The church on top of the mountain village and touristy souvenir shops.



More fotos of Pyrgos here: Pyrgos - Santorini, Greece



The Dutchman indeed was waiting for me patiently, sitting on the bench and looking like the typical tourist with his straw hat and orange shades. I told him to come follow me because I have something yummy in mind. It is 32C and the sun is glaring madly down at us on our sweaty scalps. We badly need a refreshing treat like a mouthwatering ice cream cone before hopping on the motorbike back to Kamari.

On the Road in Stormy Weather

The clouds gathered darkly as Francesco and I set off on our fateful voyage. Braving the wind in my long tights, jacket, gloves and hat, I could not believe that in the third week of May the weather was identical to what it had beenin November. No sooner had the flowers finally bloomed, than their petals were assaulted by harsh winds and pelting rains. Now they lay scattered all over the roads - a pink and lilac watery mush for everyone to trample.



"How fitting," said Francesco, "that it is on such a day you are taking me away to be left with strangers. For the dark skies reflect the darkness that will reign in my heart."



Oh Francesco! So melodramatic. In fact, we were on our way to the Ride Studio Cafe, who are loaning me a roadbike for the formidable paceline rides. Since the RSCis nearly 10 miles away and I can only get there by bike, it was agreed that I would arrive on Francesco and then swap him for the loaner bike. It will only be for a few weeks. And as soon as we arrived it was clear that my Moser was in good company: A pastelPinarello beauty made eyes at him from across the storage room, whispering "Buena Sera" in a sultry voice. He forgot about me immediately, and with a light heart I began my journey home on a sleek titanium machine.



But my sense of relief was short-lived. The skies opened up within minutes of my departure and rain began to pour with a violence that even the forecast had not predicted.



Soon my 23mm tires were cutting through lake-sized puddles and skipping over slippery tree-roots that protruded from the cracked asphalt, as water came down in buckets from the ever-darkening skies. I could not see where I was going, and it was only thanks to the miracle of the homing instinct - aided perhaps by the bicycle's admirable handling - that I got back intact.



When I finally dismounted the bike, the sight that awaited me was gruesome. Every inch of the formerly pristine machine was now covered with sand, dirt, pine needles, and all manner of road filth. Even the minuscule saddlebag they took the trouble to assemble for me was now a soggy, grime-covered mess. Then I took a look in the mirror, and realised that the same could be said of me! Forget "skunk tail" - My entire back, my legs, and also parts of my face were covered with what I hope is just wet sand, but looked far more disgusting. Is this what normally happens without fenders? It is far more dramatic than what I'd imagined!



The rest of the evening was spent showering, loading the washing machine, and scooping bits of plantlife (please don't let it be anything more gross than that!) from under the brake calipers and off the brake pads. Later, the Co-Habitant came home and thoroughly examined my loaner steed... upon which he discovered a substantial gash in the front tire. Seriously? Argh! But I guess I should be glad - otherwise it could have failed during a paceline ride, which is one of my biggest fears. So I think I will be putting some tires with puncture protection on this bike. ContinentalGatorSkins might be a tad slower than the Michelin ProRace3s currently on it, but the gash in the rubber is enough to persuade me it's worth it. What is your favourite "fast" road tire with puncture protection?



The forecast promises pretty much constant rain and autumnal temperatures for the entire week, and the gloomy weather is really becoming difficult to take. I will probably be going roadcycling in the rain again, simply because otherwise I will never get back into a regular practice of riding. At least next time I will know what to expect.

Gunks Routes: Commando Rave (5.9) & Dat-Mantel (5.10b)

(Photo: Maryana starting the crux section of Commando Rave (5.9).)



Last Sunday was a gorgeous day, with highs in the mid- to-upper sixties. In other words: sending weather. High season, baby!



I was meeting up with Maryana for the first time in a while. She had been forced to take an eight-week break from climbing because of a cycling accident in the city, which had left her with several fractures in her back. This was a heartbreaking blow for her, coming as it did right in the middle of a great climbing year. Before the accident Maryana had led some truly impressive Gunks 5.10's (like Birdcage, for example). But now she had to rebuild. I was climbing with her on only her second weekend back in the climbing game.



We started with a nice warm-up. I led both pitches of Son of Bitchy Virgin (5.6) in one, running it all the way to the GT ledge. I'd never done the first pitch before. It is okay, but after the initial 5.5 overhang there isn't really much to recommend it. I think the second pitch is quite nice, but it is better approached via the Immaculate Conception variation.



After our warm-up Maryana did an excellent job leading Dry Heaves, a challenging 5.8. Then I got down to business with one of those 5.9's I still hadn't gotten around to: Commando Rave.



Dick Williams suggests in his guide book that Commando Rave is a polarizing climb. He says some love it and some hate it. I guess the hate springs from the lack of pro before the crux. The climb begins with some nice moves up a seam. Then comes an unprotected thirty-foot (!) traverse, but really this traverse is so easy it is barely fifth class. For most of it you are basically walking on a sidewalk. And about two-thirds of the way across I actually got a big blue Camalot in the crack at my feet. After that the rest of the way was well-protected.



The crux is really fun. You angle up and right through some overhangs to a left-facing corner. The hardest bit comes as you reach the end of the roof at the corner. You have to hang in to place a bomber piece, and then it takes a balance move out right to escape the corner and reach up to the good hold.



Once through the crux the belay tree is just a couple of moves away. Commando Rave is good, featuring a solid 5.9 crux. It is a quality quick tick, and totally worth doing. It isn't amazing, and it certainly isn't bad. I really can't imagine loving or hating it.







(Photo: Heading up to the big roof on Dat-Mantel (5.10b).)



I felt pretty good about Commando Rave, and afterwards thought I might get another quick tick, this time of a 5.10. I jumped right on the nearby Dat-Mantel.



This was a climb I'd aborted leading with Gail. On that occasion I was just getting up to the roof when I realized I needed some big gear I'd already used below, and then it started raining. After abandoning the lead I sent it pretty easily on toprope on the first try. Pissed to have found it so easy, I resolved then to try to come back and get the redpoint on lead before was out.







(Photo: Getting ready to attack the roof on Dat-Mantel.)



This time, on lead, I wouldn't say it went easily, exactly. I fumbled about a bit before figuring out how to reach the bomber horizontal above the roof. Then I was psyched to place two good cams above the roof, one for each of our double ropes.



I got set to throw a heel and pivot over the roof....



And it worked out. It took a few tries. It wasn't pretty. I remember standing right up over the roof when I did it on top rope. On lead, by contrast, I ended up basically pushing my whole leg and hip into the rock before I could pull myself over the roof. But I never weighted the rope, and I made it! I'll gladly call it a victory and put it in the bank.



Dat-Mantel is a good introductory 5.10. The crux is short and the pro is great. You should be careful as you figure out how to reach the horizontal over the roof. There is good pro at the back, where the roof meets the wall, but until you can plug that horizontal over your head a fall will send you down onto the slab.It wouldn't bea dangerous fall, but it would be unpleasant. Once you get your fingers in the horizontal, however,there are great placements left and right, and you can try the roof move over and over again without falling onto the rope.



After Dat-Mantel my day was as good as done. With a new 5.9 onsight to my credit plus a successful 5.10, I was content to coast. Maryana proved herself to be the comeback kid, leading two more hard 5.8's: the wonderful first pitches of both Carbs & Caffeine and Airy Aria. I then got to end our day by combining the beautiful second and third pitches of Airy Aria into one lead, a fitting finish to a glorious day of climbing.



I love sending season.