Part 1 of "This Was The Ride That Was"

On this last day of 2010 thoughts drift back through time . . . back to Great Rides of 2010. It was a stellar year in my cycling career - attempts at racing, my first bike-tour, "epic" commuting. But one of my favorite rides of 2010 was not so grand as these, just a little jaunt up HWY 101 in OR!!!! To hike up MT. NEAHKANIE!!!! On SINGLESPEED CRUISERS WITH COASTER BRAKES!!!!!!!

THE BIKES

I like renting bikes when I travel, that way I can ride bikes I wouldn't normally get the chance to try out. I keep hoping for something other than a singlespeed cruiser and while sometimes I can find a "sweet whip" (as the kids on the corner say), usually it's a version of the Torker you see on the left. They're not terrible, just more painful than I would prefer.

THE GOAL

Mount Neahkanie is near Manzanita, OR, which is about three hours from Portland. The famous Highway 101 goes over and through it. A gravel road just off the highway leads to the trailhead, the trail leads to the summit. The gf and I decided to throw ourselves at the mountain and see what happened.

THE RIDE

Highway 101 is a two-lane road that runs all along the Pacific Coast. Lots of cyclists ride it. More cars drive it. The stretch we were on did not have a shoulder or bike lane. It did have a steep steep steep incline and lots of traffic, including logging trucks. I have a predictable response when passed too closely by large motor vehicles - AAAAHHHHHH!!!!! - I got to use that alot riding on 101.

Eventually my had-to-weigh-70lbs Torker and I made it to the gravel turn-off. The gf and I walked toward the trailhead, but it was farther than we thought and kept going uphill. The bikes were abandoned (well, parked on the side of the road) and

Finally, the trail! Hooray! The trail! The trail! The trail . . . keeps going up . . .and up . . . and up . . . .

We persevered and eventually made it to the top.

On our way back down the trail we kept thinking about the traffic on 101 and the coaster brakes on our Torkers ("aaaauuuggghhh!"). The gf is bolder than me and before we could get back to the bikes she arranged a ride down the hill with a guy who had a pickup. He was very nice, but had to give us the obligatory business about not wearing helmets "Hey man, we're on vacation" (okay okay, it is a lame excuse).

He was very kind and dropped us off at the pie-and-coffee shop on the edge of town.

Unfortunately, rather mediocre pie and coffee ended our very awesome bike

The next day I opted for the flats.

Biking in Louisville's Winter

Approximately 1 inch of snow ended many students' and teachers' dreams of Monday at school. This gave me a chance to pick up my new glasses (HD!! it's like I have bionic eyes). The temperature was a brisk 20F and the clothes were layered . . . and layered . . . and then layered. While the details of my little journey are mundane (unless you enjoy reading books like Cod or Salt), the issue of Winter Cycling looms large. We have rather mild winters compared to our brethren above the Mason-Dixon Line, but it can still get wicked cold.

If you want to ride your bike in Minneapolis, New York City, Chicago, Boston, or Pierre you settle in for months of frigid snowiness. You can be assured that the multiple layers and specialized clothes will be a mainstay of your cycling wardrobe. In Louisville, though, you might be riding in 40F sun on Tuesday, 50F rain on Wednesday, and 20F snow on the following Monday. One must become adept at understanding the differences between being cold in the 30s versus the 20s. In January we will have 1-3 days of temps in the 60s and 70s, so don't put away those short-sleeves yet! You never step into the same weather twice.

Today's short trip will be a study in Winter Cycling. I will not address training rides, mountain biking, or cyclocross; just going down to the eye shop for some new glasses.

Let's talk about clothes.

Unless you are a sheep rancher or operate a dude ranch, my clothing choices aren't very fashionable. But my clothier is the owner/operator of Dude, Really ranch. Thus the key pieces of my ensemble are: boots (no exposed ankles and extra shin/calf warmth), convertible wool mittens with cotton stretchy gloves underneath, and my bright blue buff-like thing (it covers neck, face, ears and the back of my head). Long johns under the jeans, a waffle-ish thermal shirt, and sunglasses (blocks wind, reduces snowy glare) complete the look. I have a water/wind proof helmet cover, too.

Like someone on a motorcycle, you want to be a little cold when you start out. Soon you'll generate body heat and warm up. If this doesn't happen within 10 minutes go home - you're underdressed.

Perhaps you would like to look more fashionable when you venture out for a wintry romp on your Magna? If so, I highly recommend: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8i7vcboSje0

Louisville rarely has much accumulation of snow. I know, it does happen, but let's be honest here - slush is our wintry treasure. [btw, I can't figure out why this is bolded and underlined]

Fenders are a good idea when biking in slush. I have fenders on my Jamis, but today I pulled the Niner out of my quiver (for climbing dangerous, icy clumps of snow, like what you see in the lower right corner.

On my way to Bionic Eyes I thought, "Hey, this isn't so bad! Cold is so relative. Sure, the house is warmer, but this is just fine. Tra la la, fa la la, tra fa la."

What a lovely day! And once again I scored an excellent parking spot.

I get my new glasses, check out the fine print on a legal document 5 blocks away, and head home. Tra la la . . . .

Turning North onto 3rd Street I remember something, a very important something - headwinds.

AUGGHH! Wind whips through my buff-y, through my two/three/four layers, and, most critically, through the leather toes of my boots and swirls around my own delicate-like-a-tea-rose-toes. Gugugugugu. A lovely tailwind had escorted me away from home, but a vicious headwind is fighting to keep me from going back.

I briefly entertain the idea of going to the Moving Sale (ha! would a car driver have noticed this sign?! and been able to quickly turn and head towards it! ha!)

Walking makes my toes scream obscenities to my brain. I decide to go home instead.

I was so focused on avoiding dangerous slush and keeping warm I almost hit another cyclist. Silly me, not expecting to see a bike COMING RIGHT AT ME GOING THE WRONG WAY ON A LEGAL THOROUGHFARE.

(Remember, ride with traffic, not against traffic. Not only is it safer, it's the freaking law (which I do have an ambivalent with, though that's another post). It's as dangerous as the time I was so busy looking out for broken glass I accidentally headed up the on-ramp for the Watterson (who would've thought Hale Avenue would suddenly become one-way?!).

Once home I frantically administered first aid to my w/ailing toes. Whew, everything was going to be okay.

Lessons learned:

1) I know how to keep my hands, neck, torso, and head reasonably warm when it's 20F

2)Not even my new sheepskin liners will keep my toes warm when it's 20F. Maybe those charcoal feet warmers would work?

3)Headwinds blow

When cycling in cold weather I build in rewards for myself. At Theatre Square (they really do used the Brit "re" spelling) I got a coffee drink, fresh ground decaf for home, and a bottle of Basil Hayden bourbon. If I had brought my leotard I could have done Bikram yoga, too.

If you really want to get warm, head half a block north of Broadway on 4th Street. Seriously toasty.

Blech

I hate biking in the rain, especially cold rain, but I rode my bike anyway to do a couple of errands on this rainy, cold day. I'm not sure why I made this choice. Maybe it was the opportunity to wear my really cute rain outfit? Maybe it was the lure of the city dump? Maybe it was the reward waiting for me at the end - hot coffee at Sunergos? Whatever the reason, I set out on my fool's errand(s):

If it were a dry day I would go many places and buy lots of little things (like chain lube and shoelaces), but it is not that sort of day so I scaled down to two errands: dump and hardware store. This once-lovely rocker is now broken and busted. A resourceful person would make it into a family heirloom or an interesting planter. I am not that person.

Instead, I am the person who will get cold, wet feet (and that is not a metaphor) toting a broken rocker to the dump alongside an F-350 unloading shingles. Somewhere, a crafty person is crying over the lost possibilities of dumped furniture. I'm crying too, but it's from the acid rain dripping into my eye and burning like holy hell (we just don't hear enough about acid rain anymore; I miss those days).

I bought my zip ties, bolts, and washers at Oscar's Hardware, along with a few other, less interesting, items. Pulling on my wet wool gloves (convertibles!) convinced me it was Black & White time at Sunergos. I don't really know what is in that coffee drink, but it went down smoothly.

The ride home was wet upon wet. Rain ran into my mouth and down my neck. By this point my socks and gloves were soaked. I could try to sound like one of those bike heroes who loves going out in all weather and is made only stronger by adversity. Sometimes the challenge of bad weather can be invigorating. But today? Well, now I know what not to wear in the rain. Blech.

Suburb Replaced By City Center!!!

I started jury duty today, which means a drastic change in my work commute. Normally I drive the car to work, as my home and place of employment are far far apart, with clogged roads between them (though occasionally I do bike it, that being the subject of another post), but now that I've got jury duty it's a sub-10 minute bike commute. Humming, we're humming, my bike and I.

My commute, by bike or car, starts with getting my godson to preschool. Normally we're in the car, but thanks to the Seventh Amendment we are our own engines today. I start out slowly pedaling, but after about 1 block I'm walking. This was our first rest stop. Getting to school took FOREVER. He started to get his lunch out to stave off hunger about 3 blocks into the 5 block journey. Finally, we made it. The other preschoolers were impressed with his scooter. He thoughtfully announced it was my birthday and my knees got hugged:)

I went straight up Eighth Street, right past our village blacksmith, Fred Hutt. I should have included the long line of drays, hansom cabs, and phaetons in this picture. Kentucky is truly the horse capital of the world, as the large number of horses waiting in line for Mr. Hutt to shoe them would have demonstrated (darn that sticky shutter).

After some fancy navigating to avoid horsey-pie and a newly broke bay mare who was running wild down the street, I finally made it to the Hall of Justice (which I later found out isn't really the Hall of Justice (that's across the pedway) but, really, with those columns? It needs to be the Hall of Justice, not the boring old "Judicial Center").

There were two crappy bikes at the bike rack at lunchtime, but at quitting time there was just me and young-guy-on-a-Surly. It was an exciting moment, meeting a fellow bike commuter. We discussed the possibility of rain tomorrow (bike or bus?) and the appeal of the Surly CrossCheck (although he was on a Steamroller).

Note the toeclips, reflective pants band, and SS (or is it a fixie?). I didn't notice if he had a front brake or not. I guess that's something we can chat about during voir dire.

Many new bike lanes have been added to the Metro's streets in the past couple of years (thanks, Jerry). I got to actually ride on one when I went home today. It's not too often that my route coincides with bicycle infrastructure, so when it happens I'm sure to forget to take a picture. I did, however, ride past the famous L & N building on Broadway. My mom retired from Adult Protective Services this past Spring, which, like many other state social services, is housed in this building. My grandma and great-uncle worked for L & N back in the day (though I'm not revealing which day), before this was built. I had this fantasy that all three had worked in the same building, but it turns out my granny and her brother worked down by the railroad yards near Central Ave. Oh well.

Most of my students are from Somalia. Everybody calls this the Somali Mall, not the International Mall. As near as I can tell, only Somali-owned businesses are there. You can get sambosa for a dollar (meat fried in dough; is there a culture without some version of this?), a fancy hijab, go to Koran classes, and rent Indian movies (Somalis love Indian movies - I think it's because there is a lot of romance but no smooching).

And then, BOOM, I'm home again. I didn't even pay attention when the deputy sheriff was telling us about where we could park and which garages gave juror discounts. That self-righteous feeling can be soooo good.

Old Louisville to Highlands

I've done this ride a million times. There are a few different ways to go, but I usually use Oak Street. The upside of global warming is a fabulous November afternoon.

I head east from home.

Soon comes the relieved sigh that comes when I get to pedal again. Soooo relaxing.

But then, on Ormsby, I spot a cyclist apparently floating 6 or 7 feet above Second Street. Could it be a tall bike has migrated to our town? I don't remember seeing one before. I gun it (which means I'm the only one who would be able to tell I've sped up),

make the turn onto Second,

AAAAHHHHHH IT'S THE BIKE HAZARD!! Thank goodness somebody finally filled that hole.

I shoot closer to Mystery Bike and then BLAM she's down on the ground. Even better than a tall bike, she's on a very shiny pennyfarthing! How unexpected, and delightful. I want to talk to her and get a picture of her bike, but a Gritty Urban Dweller keeps following her saying, "I wanna git a pitcher of thaat bike." She scoots away from him and the opportunity is lost.

I did get one kind of crappy picture that I antiqued up to maintain the pennyfarthing mood (which she tried to ruin by wearing contemporary cycling tights and sailor shirt). You can see the Gritty Urban Dweller closing in from the right.

Next I swing along Oak up to Bardstown Road and turn North. I have a couple errands to run, which leads me to Pennyfarthing Sighting #2!!

Something's afoot at the cyclery, it appears. Is some sort of ne0-Victorian cabal infiltrating our cycling lanes and stores? Is it our very own SteamPunk? Does it have brakes? Are fanny packs required? . . . . so many questions . . . .

Next I saw what I believe to be the only ghost bike in the metro (surely there's another one).

Jen Futrell was killed here in 2008. I didn't know her, but a friend did. Apparently she was a very nice person.

(moment of silence)

Shortly thereafter I arrived at my destination, ready to drink coffee and snack with two old friends, Amy and Traci.

The weather turned a little colder on the way home.

I spotted 5 other people on bikes, including a guy waiting for a bus with his bike. If I gave points for coolness and non-car use, he'd win.