Redefining Sunday Mornings

Apologies for the over-abundance of road themed posts lately, but I need to write this down before the details fade, or before I get too embarrassed. This morning, instead of sleeping in like normal people I woke up at 7am to get ready for the Sunday Morning Ride at the Ride Studio Cafe. I have done their Women's Rides, but never the mixed gender Sunday rides. While some have tried to lure me to join, others warned that these rides are faster and more difficult than described. Especially after reading this, I was inclined to believe the latter and sensibly steered clear. So why now? Well, I need to train for the Hell's Gate Hundred and time is running out. And also these people convinced me that I could do it. With a straight face they said: "Oh you can definitely do it." And I believed them - figuring that since they were designated to lead the ride this weekend, they ought to know.




So, could I do it? That really depends of your definition of that concept. I mean,I finished the ride. I didn't crash. I didn't walk uphill. I didn't throw up or cry (though I came close). So in that sense I guess I did it. But it was such a humiliating struggle, that I can hardly think of it as an accomplishment. It was worse even than my first paceline ride last May, when I showed up on a touring bike and everybody else rode racing bikes. Only this time I did not have the "slow bike" excuse - it was all me. At least now I know where I stand.




When I left the house this morning it was 25°F outside with a brutal headwind. Of all the mild Sundays we've had this winter, I just had to choose this one. As I pedaled the 10 miles to the ride's start my eyes were watering and my lungs were burning; doing this was beginning to seem like a terrible idea. But I'd already told people I was coming and didn't want to back out.




As cyclists arrived bundled up and in good spirits, I felt more relaxed.By the time we got ready to ride, it warmed up to 30°F and the sunny morning made me optimistic. "This will be just like the Women's Rides," I told myself, "only with men." There were only 4 of us in the slower group; this was going to be fun and social.




Trying to analyse it in retrospect, I am not sure what exactly made this ride so difficult for me. It was probably a little bit of everything. The speed in itself would have been fine, if it weren't for the headwinds we were continuously assaulted with. The hills would have been fine, if there weren't so many of them. It was also difficult to breathe the cold air while already struggling to breathe from exertion.




Werode 34 miles through the towns of Lexington, Weston, Wayland, Sudbury and Lincoln. We climbed two substantial hills, with lots of littler hills in between. I was without a doubt the weakest member of our group, and on hills this was especially apparent. I wheezed. I whimpered. I swore out loud. I almost fainted from pushing myself to try and keep up. And still I lagged behind. My legs felt like lead.Flats and downhills did not offer much respite, since I had to work harder than everyone else to keep up the pace. My face was bright red from shame and effort.




I employed various coping techniques to get through the ride. At one point, I mentally talked myself through it. "It's okay... Pedal, don't think... Look at the pretty trees... Focus on the wheel in front of you... What doesn't kill you makes you stronger..." After that stopped working, I began to play Bach in my head until the repetitive harpsichord pieces started to feel like a seizure. Then I tried to separate my mind from the physicality of what I was doing, as if it were happening to somebody else. Some time after that delirium set in and I don't remember anymore.




At some point - I think this must have been closer to the beginning - something really cool happened. The faster group caught up with us and "swallowed us" before speeding away. I have never experienced this before and it wasn't the same as merely riding in a group. Suddenly, the faster cyclists were ...everywhere. On my right, on my left, in front, behind - some seemingly no more than an inch away. I felt carried along, swept away - it was scary and exciting at the same time. "Like a school of fish" said a rider in our group later. Is this a taste of what racing is like?




When we finished the ride I could hardly walk. I vaguely recall being hugged and given high-fives as I rapidly chewed a croissant. I had done a Sunday Morning Ride. It was hard, and it was embarrassing, and I will do it again. I rode 55 miles total by the time I got home. Sunday mornings will never be the same.

Dragon

The dragon that the firefighter is standing on represents the forest fire that the firefighters fought.

Wild Sunflower

Sunflowers help brighten up my day.

Bicycles, Walls and the Passage of Time

Over the holidays I received a DVD of a film diptych that I'd long wanted to watch: Cycling the Frame and The Invisible Frame, directed by Cynthia Beatt.



In 1988, Beatt made the short filmCycling the Frame. Described as a "cine-poem," this 30 minute documentary follows a young British actress (Tilda Swinton) as she cycles along the perimeter of the Berlin Wall in what was then West Berlin. It is a 100 mile journey along mostly abandoned roads and overgrown dirt paths crossing forests and fields. The ever-present wall, with its menacing guard towers, turns the landscape surreal: It severs railroad tracks, creates paths to nowhere, and separates waterfront properties from the bodies of water they front. As Swinton pedals, she vocalises her stream-of-conscience thoughts about the things she sees and how they make her feel. As she grows tired of cycling and overwhelmed with her surroundings, the film begins to resemble a dream sequence. Finally she arrives to her Brandenburg Gate start and concludes that "this place is mad."



More than two decades after the original journey, the director and actress set out again to film the follow up, The Invisible Frame. In , they retrace their route along the now long-absent Berlin Wall. A visibly more mature, sharper dressed Tilda Swinton cycles the perimeter, this time weaving back and forth across the phantom border. There are signs of life now: The roads have bike lanes and motorised traffic. On some of the dirt paths we see joggers, dog walkers, children and other cyclists. But despite an apparent return to normality along these stretches, the majority of the landscape is no less eerie twenty years after the wall's removal. We see abandoned buildings, barren fields, dingy looking lakes, random bits of strangeness. It's as if scarred, dead space remains left where the separation used to be. Disconcerted, Swinton meditates on this as she pedals, concluding that "when one wall comes down others come up."



While these aren't cycling films exactly, the prominent role of the bicycle is impossible to ignore. From a practical standpoint, a bike was necessary to make the films happen. Much of the route along the real/ phantom Wall is not accessible to cars, and traveling 100 miles on foot would not have worked with the scope of the project. The speed of the bicycle matched the speed with which the narrative needed to flow, and even the camera crew traveled via a cargo recumbent. As each film progresses, the bicycle begins to seem increasingly important, merging with Swinton's visceral sense of self. She starts to mention it in her stream-of-conscience utterings, to talk about space in relation to not just her, but to her and the bike, to confuse herself with the bike. While this contributes to the mystical feel of the films, it will also be recognised by cyclists as a completely normal sensation to have during long rides.



It was interesting also that the bicycle seemed well-matched to Swinton's person in each of the films. In the original, the actress's flowing clothing looks worn and a little disheveled; her hair natural and slightly unkempt. The bike she rides is a rickety swoopy mixte with faded paint. In the newer film, Swinton is dressed in a stylized and sophisticated manner. She wears architectural-looking clothing and shoes. There are sharp angles to her haircut, her hair now a platinum blond. The bicycle she rides is angular and modern, its paint metallic. This transformation in personal style and bike echoes the rift I felt between the earlier and the latter films. Cycling the Framecame across as spontaneous and exploratory, whereas The Invisible Frameseemed stiffer and more choreographed. The actress/cyclist is no longer the same person and does not relate to this landscape in the same way. She talks about openness, but speaks in political and philosophical generalities and is seemingly less present in Berlin itself.



Can we ever recreate an experience, or re-visit a place? And can we ever really understand another country, as we tour it on a bike with a foreigner's benign detachment and predatory curiosity? These are the questions these films, with their collective 200 miles of cycling along a real/ unreal wall perimeter, ultimately seem to be asking.



If you are local and would like to borrow my copy, drop me a line. The Invisible Framecan be viewed on netflix, but the original Cycling the Frame was not available online last time I checked.

Donkey

I have several donkeys in my collection. This is one that I got at Death Valley, near Los Vegas, NV in 1959 when we went to Death Valley Scotties Castle several times. The head is on a spring and bobs up and down. He is made out of some sort of metal.

Water Abstract - Pigeon River

I haven't been posting many pictures lately. My apologies to those that might be missing my posts. I have been busy going through a selection process to determine which photos I want to display in my upcoming "Visual Stories" exhibition in Grand Marais. Also, I have been without my camera for the past week! It turns out it got a little too wet during my last outing (remember the lightning photo at the Spirit Tree from a week ago?) and would not let me shoot anymore. I was getting an "Error 30" message and had to send it in to a Canon Service Center. I should have it back sometime this week.



In the meantime, here is a photo from this spring. This was taken at Middle Falls on the Pigeon River in Grand Portage State Park. The water just above the falls has many areas where the flow is silky smooth, which makes for some very intriguing abstract images when shooting with a telephoto lens. Another interesting thing is that the water here often nicely reflects the colors of the sky. On this particular day there was some blue sky along with patchy clouds and you can see both reflected here in the water.

Snow Queen!

My Gazelle "Linda" has now been updated for the winter, with new tires and woven dress guards. She is a beautiful sight to behold against the snowy landscape!



The tire replacement was something that had to be done anyhow, as the original ones were cracked and I did not want them to fail in the winter. And of course, I was only too happy to replace them with my favourite creamSchwalbe Delta Cruisers.As for the woven dress guards, there was no reason for them what so ever, other than aestheticcaprice. I thought that Linda looked somewhat generic with the solid black vinyl dress guards, and I wanted to personalise her. We purchased the woven dress guards from Mike Flanigan of ANT and installed them by drilling holes directly into the fenders. I have close-up pictures of the installation and will write a detailed tutorial in a separate post, for those interested.



Riding the Gazelle with the new tires, I immediately noticed that shebecame a bit faster and quicker to accelerate. This echoes my experience with Delta Cruisers on other bikes- which is one reason I love these tires so much. They are the best combination of city/ sporty/ cushy/ all-weather I have found so far. And okay, it does not hurt that they are available in cream!



It was interesting to cycle on the Gazelle after such a heavy snowfall, and to compare her handling to the Bella Ciao - which I rode immediately after the previous snowfall. Somewhat to my surprise, they handle similarly at slow speeds (under 10mph)- which is the speed I stick to under winter road conditions. The Bella Ciao's superior responsiveness and the Gazelle's superior cushiness are considerably less noticeable when cycling gingerly over slush and ice patches. Their common qualities, however, are all the more noticeable: Namely, how well-balanced and stable they both are. The PashleyI rode last year had these same qualities as well - so I think that all three are great winter bicycles.



The Gazelle does have a bit of an edge when cycling over large formations of hardened snow, due to its wider tires. On the other hand, theBella Ciao has a considerable "winter cyclocross" advantage: It is easier to drag, lift and carry when road conditions necessitate getting off the bike and moving it over heaps of snow or patches of ice. Overall, I am honestly not sure which I prefer, and I see the two bikes as representing different ends of my winter comfort zone spectrum. The Gazelle has a rack and lights, so by default I ride it more. But once I install these on the Bella Ciao, that may change. For those who have tried different upright transportation bicycles in the winter (i.e., Pashley vs Workcycles vs Retrovelo vs Rivendell vs ANT vs Abici, etc.), I would love to know what you think of the handling.



After the first two snow storms of the season, I can already tell that I will have an easier time cycling this winter than I did last year. Nothing has really changed in a drastic way, but maybe my balancing skills have gradually improved and my lungs have grown accustomed to cycling in freezing temperatures. And as far as aesthetics go, I really do think that it helps to have a bicycle that you are excited about as a winter bike, rather than a "beater". This helped me last year and it's helping me now. The winter landscape is so beautiful, that cycling through it on a bicycle I love (and feel safe on) makes it all the more special.

Holly sheet...are the retailers nuts?

I had an interesting conversation come up this week.



Most know I buy a lot of gear at retail. I also return a lot of gear to retailers with out a .oz or remorse.

Couldn't write the blog other wise.



I personally shop most everyone online and all the retail climbing stores in the Seattle area.



Economic times are a little tough for most. Myself and extended family no different from anyone out side Wall StreetI suspect. But we (climbers and skiers) all have a certain amount of disposable income. I have when unemployed and when working full time. Most do, if you climb. You make "gear"a priority. How much of a priority is up to you :) Rent or new double boots? Food or gas money?



So....I suspect you'll be as amazed as I was with this conversation.



After a few years off a friend wants to do the Cassin in good style spring of . It has been a while since he has been in the alpine. But he has always skied and climbed hard. Hard enough to have been on pro deals in the past. The Cassin is a great goal but shouldn't be out of his reach either. He no longer has to trade food for gas money financially. But he wants to get in a couple of good seasons in yet before kids are part of hisfuture responsibilities.



A quick look at his gear room, our conversations and worse yet, a look here at the blog and it is obvious some new gear will make things easier, safer and warmer for his climbs, this winter and eventually the Cassin.



My guy is a businessman. He knows numbers. So out comes his hit"list". The number when done is $5000 of new gear. Where to start the shopping? I send him to literally all of my normalsources with $5000 in hand and a list he wants filled. How hard can that be? I mention that with $5K...most retailers should be willing to cough up a fair discount. If it were me I'd want 20% off the top, no questions asked. And I'd want the EXACT color, size and item on my list. No chit chat, no BS, no hassles. I give you a $5K order. I pay $$4K for it plus shipping and taxes as required. That $5K will cost most retailersbetween $3000 and $2500 at a 40% or 50% margin depending on whetherit is hard goods or soft goods. This order is a combo..but mostly clothes which go at 50%.



Sure they will have shipping and time involved and if the items are not in stock they will have to order the gear. Which is more time involved. But then $1000 for a few hours work would seem to be a decent day's wage when the guy on the phones @ less than $20 per hr.After all my guy has the ability to go anywhere and buy the gear,hassle free, at retail.



You would think someone would take on a quick turnlike this one and it would be done same day.



The list has yet to be resolved but from first contact the buyer is so frustrated it seems he is willing to just pay retail from any business that won't bull shit him around.



Retail specialtystores...the ones still open...wonder why they are doing poorly? The online folks? It doesn't take much effort to have good customer service let alone great customer service. Seems a few of them will be out of business before they figure that one out.



I don't mind paying retail. But like most I prefer not to if there are other options available.Those that I do buy from better be damn nice to me and earn my money.But no question ifI were going to drop $4 or 5K at one location...they would be giving me a discount or I'd shop else where. Even if that means EBAY. Given enough time I could dig up everything on his list at 1/2 price, new with the hang tags intact. If you are a retailer and think other wise you are an idiot.



Can't wait to readand then publish the anonymousexcuses ;)

Road to Trail: Speed, Skills and Bikes

Among the people I ride with it is popular to mix stretches of dirt roads, paths and trails into what are otherwise fast road rides (well, they call the rides "social pace," but there is a certain level you have to reach in order to be social at that pace!). At first I would only join the rides that promised not to do any off-road whatsoever, but now I am gradually starting to ease into riding stretches of dirt trails.



Doing this in the company of experienced cyclists has given me a different perspective than riding in similar terrain alone. The biggest difference is that they go fast, whereas on my own I used to see cycling off road as something to be done cautiously and slowly. Now I am noticing that going fast can actually make things easier.Riding on rock-strewn dirt and gravel requires more effort and lower gearing than riding on pavement, particularly when going uphill. Ride too slowly, and the bike can get bogged down. But maintain speed, and the momentum "carries" the bike through sections that might otherwise seem difficult or scary. It's counterintuitive for a beginner, because the natural inclination is to slow down if the terrain gets challenging. And this is where riding with a group is helpful: following their pace means quickly learning the "faster is easier" lesson through experience. Of course partof it is also psychological. When I am focused on trying to keep up with the group, I don't really have the opportunity to worry about every single ditch and rock and root formation - my instincts kick in and somehow I end up riding through sections I would have considered too challenging if given a chance to think.



As far as skills, I am finding once again (as I did with roadcycling earlier) that I improve quickly with others and very slowly, if at all, on my own. I've ridden on dirt trails before, but now I feel that all those rides taken together did nothing for me compared to the single stretch of off-road I did as part of a ride last weekend. It wasn't a long section, but it had a bit of everything that terrifies me: ditches, rocks, mud, a bit of climbing and descending, even a tad of residual snow and ice. We rode through it quickly, and afterward I suddenly felt like I "got it," whereas on all of my slow and cautious lone rides previously I wasn't really getting it at all.



It seems to me that a good bike for transitioning from road to trails and back needs to be fast, light, responsive, and ideally to have wide tires. Last year I would probably have started with "wide tires" and listed everything else as optional, but recent experience makes me reconsider. I have found it easier to "push" a faster, lighter bike through dirt, especially uphill, than a slower and heavier one. And I have found it easier to avoid obstacles on a quick-responding bike than on a stable but sluggish one. And while wide tires would make things better still, it seems to me that those other factors are crucial.



My impression is that for a while there was a tendency in the bicycle industry to associate wide tires with more relaxed, heavier and slower touring-style bikes - the reasoning being that if you want wide tires, you probably do not need to go fast. Therefore, it was difficult to find bicycles that both had clearance for tires over 25mm and were sufficiently fast and aggressive. That began to change with the rising popularity of cyclocross, and with people like Jan Heine reviving interest in the classic randonneuring bicycle. Races and other competitive events with both road and dirt sections have become more mainstream over the past several years as well. I am not sure whether in the long run any of this will be relevant to me, but it is an interesting development. More builders and manufacturers are starting to specialise in fast road-to-trail bikes, and locally this type of riding seems to be all the rage. Whether I have what it takes to take part in it remains to be determined.

I am Curious, Yellow

Obscure film references aside, the past week for me has been dominated by equal parts anticipation and anxiety. I've ridden my loaner roadbike for 120 miles in preparation for the next paceline ride... which, ironically, was cancelled for the second time in a row due to rain. The more time passes, the more my anticipation builds and the more exaggerated my anxieties become.



The Co-Habitant and I did two fast-paced, hilly rides over the weekend - he on his SurlyCross Check and I on the borrowedSeven. We went over the same hills where he has previously passed me nonchalantly regardless of which bikes we were both riding... only this time our positions were reversed dramatically. I shot past him while exerting little effort, continued to merrily cycle uphill, and then waited for him to catch up as I sipped water and sniffed flowers.



Of course we expected that a racy roadbike would be faster than a heavier and more relaxed cyclocross bike with wide tires and a saddlebag. But since he is a stronger cyclist than I am to begin with, I thought that the discrepancy would level the playing field between us. Neither of us thought that it would make me this much faster uphill.



The interesting thing is that on downhills and flats there was not much difference between us; it was uphill that the bike really began to matter. This parallels my experience of the paceline ride on my Rivendell, where it was specifically on the uphill portions that I felt a disadvantage to the others.



But while I am now confident in the bike's climbing ability, this is tempered by a fear not only of its speed on descents, but also of my relative unfamiliarity with its handling. After putting nearly 2,000 miles on my RivendellI pretty much know how it behaves across a wide range of situations. The 120 miles on the Seven are just not sufficient for that kind of comfort to develop. I don't mind admitting that I'm plain scared when riding it at 25mph+ downhill - scared of the narrow tires, scared of the carbon fork, and scared of its precise but aggressive cornering. The fear saps away my confidence, making me squeeze the brakes and cycle more conservatively than I am capable of.



Being 100% comfortable with a bicycle is not something I can force; it takes time. My curiosity is a strong motivator to keep riding and practicing, specifically seeking out those situations that still make me nervous.



While the bike is in my possession I've fitted it with my own saddle, which has made it more comfortable to ride long distances. I've also installed my pedals (the narrow MKS Streams) and PowerGrips. This looks silly on a bike that is typically ridden clipless, but I don't care: I need to ride it in a way that makes me comfortable. I've also now raised the saddle another 5mm from how it's shown in this picture, which almost makes it look like the standover is not too high. Almost. The length of the toptube and the handlebar set-up work well for me (the Ride Studio Cafematched the configuration to one of my own bikes) and it's only the seat tube height that's off. The result is that the bike fits me extremely well when I am riding it, but looks too big when I am not. Ideally, the frame would have the same virtual top tube length, with the actual top tube just a little bit sloped in order to reduce standover. Given the available demo models I prefer this set-up over a smaller frame, because I don't like toe overlap. All in all I feel good on this bike, which is what matters.



I really hope they don't cancel the paceline ride next week; the anticipation is getting ridiculous. In the meantime, all I can do is keep riding.

A Look at Berthoud Handlebar Bags and Thoughts on Attachment Options

I finally received a Giles Berthoud handlebar bag for the Randonneur. It's the Model 25 in gray, which is their medium size and features elastic ties for the pockets instead of leather straps.

The visual presence of this bag is almost too much for me. There is something about its colour scheme and construction that says "I am French and I am exquisite," and I find this both interesting and intimidating.



But happily, the Berthoud does not overwhelm the aesthetics of the bicycle. The size is a perfect fit. And the darker fabric and lighter leather combination parallels the contrast between the frame and lugwork. In comparison, the Ostrich handlebar bag on my own bike is more drab and also more bulky.



The bag has a large front pocket,



two side pockets



and two rear pockets. The top flap closes toward, rather than away from the cyclist, which is the opposite of what I am used to with the Ostrichand makes it counterintuitive for me to use - but this is of course user-specific. You can see that leather straps are provided for wrapping around the back of the rack. However, there are no provisions for securing the bag to the rack's platform, which surprised me (Ostrich includes straps for this). I know that some devise DIY systems, and if you've done so I'd love to hear about your process.



There are leather straps provided for attaching the bag to the handebars, though most opt for installing a decaleur. And here is where we are experiencing a little glitch. Ideally, the owner would prefer to forgo a decaleur: He plans to ride both with and without the bag, and a bagless decaleur sticking out of the bicycle doesn't look great (I agree). The handlebar straps hold the bag up fine, but without being secured on the bottom it bounces on the rack when filled with stuff and going over bumps. I am also told that the bag can move from side to side without a decaleur, though I haven't experienced thisyetduring my one test ride so far(with 10lb of weight in the bag).



As far as decaleurs go, we had planned to use one of theseif going without proved impossible, but I have since been warned that using it with the Nitto lugged stem (as opposed to the regular Technomic stem) is not a good idea, for complicated reasons related to clamp compatibility that I won't go into here. An alternative would be Berthoud's own decaleur, but it too apparently presents issues with the lugged stem - plus it is fairly obtrusive without the bag on. A headset-mounted decaleur is not possible here, because it would sit too low. So I am seeking a solution, and also wondering whether securing the bag at the bottom would in itself solve the problem. The bag is not nearly as large as my Ostrich, and I know that some do manage to use it without a decaleur. Sharing of experiences in this regard would be most appreciated.

On Bicycle Reviews

Once in a while I get an email from someone who bought a bicycle after reading positive things about it on this blog, only to discover that I also had other, more critical posts about the very same bike. When this happens it is only natural that the reader feels some degree of betrayal, and that I in turn feel guilty. I start to think that maybe I should wait until I've owned a bike for years before reviewing it, and that I should generally try to tone down the enthusiasm in my posts. But frankly, I don't think that would help matters. Having started this blog as a beginner, my preferences are in a constant state of evolution, making me an inherently untrustworthy reviewer. And I think the bigger issue is that all bicycle reviews are to some extent unreliable for these same reasons, and that reading them at face value is a mistake. Just consider the myriad of factors that can shape a bicycle review. Do you keep them in mind when interpreting the author's feedback?

Reviewer's physical characteristicsThis one gets overlooked a great deal, but I think it's an important place to start. Consider, for example, that a cyclist's size and weight are going to affect their experience of any given bike. Unless you are similar in these characteristics to the reviewer, you may not experience the same bike in the same manner: a bicycle that feels perfectly comfortable to them may feel overly stiff (or overly flexible) to you; a bicycle that is perfectly proportioned for them may feel ill-proportioned to you. Physical strength and degree of fitness plays a role as well.

Reviewer's cycling backgroundHow experienced is the reviewer at the time the review is written (that last bit is especially crucial to pay attention to when reading old reviews from bloggers who have since gained more experience)? And what type of cycling background are they coming from? An evaluation of a bicycle as fast/responsive by a seasoned racer is going to have very different implications than the same evaluation from someone whose experience has been limited to beach cruisers. Same with the notions of comfort, stability, and so on.

Basis for comparisonWhat other bicycles has this person ridden and owned? If someone has never ridden a Dutch bike before and they review, say, a Batavus, their impressions are likely to be of Dutch bikes as a general concept rather of Batavus specifically, simply because the whole category is so new and striking to them. Same with racing bikes, mountain bikes, and so on.

Duration of experienceBeware of statements such as "The bicycle felt great as soon as I started riding it," or "I knew right away that I loved it." And yes, I am probably guilty of making them myself - we all are. But the truth is that our impressions of bicycles change as we experience them across different contexts, and to experience them across different contexts we need time. How often and for how long has the reviewer been riding the bicycle? How long are their individual rides compared to yours? If a bicycle causes pain or fatigue after 50 miles, the reviewer whose rides are limited to 20 miles will be unaware of it.

ApplicabilityDoes the reviewer use the bicycle for the same purpose, or in the same way, as you would use it? The author's feedback is only truly applicable to the reader when that is the case. But if a bicycle is praised for loaded touring, whereas you are planning to commute on it or use it as a roadbike, chances are you will not experience its ride quality in quite the same way as the reviewer.

Value systemEvery reviewer is different in terms of what it is they value about a bike. To some it is important that they feel no road vibration, whereas others could not care less. For some toe overlap is unacceptable, whereas others won't even notice it. Some care mostly about how a bicycle handles loaded, some have distinct seat tube angle preferences, some take note of how cleanly filed the joints of the frame are, some are concerned about the quality of the paintjob. There are loads of issues like this that a reviewer may omit simply because they don't care one way or the other, at least at the time of the review.

Pattern of biasOnce you read a handful of reviews by the same author, a pattern of bias will usually emerge. Some reviewers criticise the heck out of all bicycles as a matter of course, so a "positive" review from them still looks pretty negative. Conversely, there are those who are enthusiastic about all the bikes they review, and then you have to carefully read between the lines and try to determine what they might be omitting. There are those reviewers who are prone to the "honeymoon effect" and those who keep a cool head. Reviewers' impressions can lean toward the emotional, the technical, the superficial, the overanalytical - you name it. Whatever their specific pattern may be, it holds clues for how to interpret that reviewer's feedback.

No doubt there are many more factors worth considering, and I invite you to share your own strategies for interpreting bicycle reviews. More than anything, I think it is crucial to read as many reviews of the same bike as you can find - and if a common thread emerges, that's when it becomes truly informative. Also, for those bicycles we don't get a chance to see in person, the images offered by reviewers can be more telling and detailed than those provided by the manufacturer. Reviews are usually useful, no matter how biased. But to "trust" a single reviewer because you like their blog or find their narrative style entertaining is, in my opinion, asking for trouble. There is no such thing as a reliable narrator, and bicycle reviews are no exception.

Early evening Milky Way over the Spirit Tree

I made this image a couple of months ago but just uploaded it to my website and wanted to share it with all of you. This was taken in the early hours of the night as the sky was just beginning to get dark enough to see the Milky Way. I love watching and photographing the night sky at the Spirit Tree, there is always something beautiful to see.

The Newest Twig on the Family Tree

My niece, Carrie, with her 2 1/2 month old grandson, Valen Lopez, and her daughter, Jasmine (the baby's mother).

Me with my great-grandnephew. He is the first of the "next" generation, my mother's great-great-grandson - that's five generations from her, but whose counting? The pictures were taken on Friday, December 18th.

The Berlin Family :: John D. and Susannah

Born on December 8th, 1792 near Abbottstown in York (now Adams) County, Pennsylvania, John D. Berlin was the eldest of nine children of John Frederick Berlin whose wife was reportedly Juliana Dietzler.



A record in the “Orphan's Court” of Adams County, Pennsylvania dated August 25, 1845 shows that John Sheffer, as heir at law of Frederick Berline in right of his wife Loretta, petitioned the court stating that “Frederick Berline died intestate September 18, 1843 leaving issue eight children, to wit: John, Henry, George, Loretta (wife of petitioner), Eli, Joel, Polly and Frederick. All over the age of twenty-one.”



Census records suggest that John D. Berlin may have resided with his father through 1810 in Adams County, Pennsylvania. I have not located John in the 1820 census where he would have been 28 years old and single.



It is not known when John D. Berlin settled in Columbiana County, Ohio but on February 16th, 1826 he was married to Susannah Huffman in that county. They resided near Washingtonville which lies on the line delineating the counties of Columbiana and Mahoning.



Susannah Huffman (or Hoffman) was born March 9, 1804 in Columbiana County, Ohio. She was the second of eleven children of John and Catherine (Coy) Hoffman. There arises some confusion in several published biographies of Coy family members. It seems that Susannah's aunt, Elizabeth Coy, also married a man by the name of John Berlin! Those biographies state that Elizabeth and John Berlin resided in Nappanee, Indiana. Not true. Elizabeth Coy did marry John Berlin but they lived in Ohio. That John Berlin was born January 8, 1777 and was probably the son of John Nicholas Berlin (brother of John D. Berlin's grandfather) which would make John and John D. first cousins once removed. A record on Find A Grave shows that that John Berlin lived to be 101 years old. He is buried in Stark County, Ohio while his wife Elizabeth is buried in Summit County.



I have never seen a record that indicates what the “D” stands for in John D. Berlin's name but suspect that it was used primarily to distinguish him from that other John Berlin. Columbiana, Mahoning, Portage, Stark and Summit counties are all in the northeast corner of Ohio, which is where both of them lived at various times. His mother's maiden name is reported to be Dietzler, so perhaps he used the “D” in her honor.



On May 26, 1827 Solomon Berlin, the first child of John D. and Susannah, was born. They remained in Columbiana County, near Washingtonville, for the next 19 years and had eight more children: Catherine, 1830; Lydia, 1832; Josiah, 1834; Jacob, 1836; Mary, 1838; Sarah, 1840; Elizabeth, 1843; and Lovina, 1845.



In 1846 John D. Berlin moved with his family to the Rootstown area in Portage County, Ohio where they lived for 18 years. Their youngest son, Joseph Milton was born there in 1848. He was killed in the spring of 1856 in a wagon accident, at the age of seven years.



As with the majority of my ancestors, John D. Berlin was a farmer. As a result, there doesn't seem to be a lot of records on him. I've found him in land records and census records: In 1830 and 1840 in Columbiana County, Ohio as John Barlein and Jno. D. Berlin, respectively. In 1850 in Rootstown, Portage County, Ohio he is enumerated as John Elsworth! He and his family were listed on the lines immediately after Dolly Elsworth. The names and ages of the children match his family completely so there is no doubt that it is the family of John D. Berlin. In 1860 he was enumerated as J. D. Berlin and was still in Rootstown. At that time only the four youngest daughters were still living at home.



Solomon Berlin, the oldest child of John D. and Susan, married Fianna Slabaugh in 1851 and shortly thereafter moved to Locke Township, Elkhart County, Indiana. Catherine Berlin, the next oldest child, was married about 1854 to Frederick Daniel Richmond. They lived in Iowa for several years (where their first two children were born) before settling in Elkhart County about 1858. Jacob Berlin, fifth child of John D. and Susan, was living with his brother Solomon in Elkhart County in 1860.



Susannah's sister, Elizabeth Coy, had married Jacob Stauffer and they had moved with their family to Elkhart County in 1852. John D's sister, Loretta (full name Clarissa Loretta) and her husband, John Shafer, and their daughter and son-in-law, Anna and Isaac Rodibush (or Raudenbush) moved to Elkhart County, Indiana prior to 1860 where they are enumerated in Union township.



With family (and undoubtedly some friends too) already living in Elkhart County, Indiana it was not surprising to learn that John D. and Susan moved there also. Family letters show that John D. and Susan left Portage County, Ohio just a few days after the marriage of their daughter Sarah to George W. Greene (they were married on August 28, 1864). Traveling with John D. and Susan were their daughters Elizabeth (aka Lizzie) and Lovina, and their son Josiah along with his wife and two sons. Three daughters of John D. and Susan remained in Portage County – Sarah, Lydia and Mary Ann. Lydia had married Myron Collins in November 1858 and Mary Ann was still single.



John D. Berlin and Susan were found in the 1870 census in Locke Township, Elkhart County. Residing with them were his brother Frederic (a blind potter, age 60) and his sister Polly (age 58). By then the two youngest daughters had married: Elizabeth to Samuel Coppes in 1867 and Lovina to Eli Yarian in 1866. Lydia, Mary Ann, and Sarah were all still living in Portage County, Ohio.



Lydia's husband, Myron Collins, had died of disease in a hospital in Nashville, Tennessee in April 1865. Nine years later (September 1874) she would marry Henry Woodruff and move to LaCygne, Linn County, Kansas. Henry died in 1898. Shortly thereafter, Lydia went to live in Elkhart County, Indiana.



Toward the end of 1866 Mary Ann Berlin also moved to Indiana. She was living in Elkhart County in 1875 when she married Lewis B. Winder.



Thus it was that Sarah (Berlin) Greene was the only member of the family who remained in Portage County, Ohio. She would live in the Ravenna area the rest of her life, giving birth to seven children, five of whom would live to adulthood. One of her children, Harry B. Greene, would move to Nappanee, Elkhart County, Indiana prior to 1900.



On November 11, 1879, John D. Berlin passed away at the home of his daughter Mary Winder in Locke, Elkhart County, Indiana. His wife Susan died five months later, on April 22, 1880 also at Mary's home. They are both buried in the Primitive Baptist Cemetery in Locke Township, Elkhart County, Indiana.





The family of John D. and Susannah (Hoffman) Berlinfront row: Elizabeth, John D., Susannah, Lydia , Solomonback row: Mary, Sarah, Lovina, Josiah, Catherine

A copy of the above photograph was received in the late 1990s from a descendant of Solomon Berlin. It is not known who now has the original or whether there were any markings on it to indicate where or when it was taken. I'm guessing that it was taken between 1862 and 1868. The son Jacob is not included – he was killed on April 7, 1862 (the second day of fighting during the Battle of Shiloh) – and Josiah died in March 1869.



John D. and Susannah (Hoffman) Berlin are my 3rd great grandparents. Their daughter, Lovina, married Eli Yarian and their daughter Susie Yarian would marry Henry Phend. They were the parents of Rolland Victor Phend who would marry Hazlette Brubaker. And they would become the parents of Virginia (Phend) Wiseman, my mother...



Additional information on The Berlin Family:

• Bible Records


• Introduction to The Letters


• The Cast of Characters


• List of The Letters

Second Life: on Cycling and Aging

Reading On My Own Two Wheels by Malachi O'Doherty*, I am transported from the North Shore of Massachusetts back to the Antrim coast of Northern Ireland, where I spent some weeks on my bike this past Spring. The Belfast-based author describes many of the same roads I traveled on - the same challenging hills, treacherous weather and glorious scenery - making me long to return there even more than I do already.




But the main theme of the book - whose subtitle is Back in the Saddle at 60 - is that of the author's return to cycling after an absence of three decades, and of the relationship between cycling and aging. Overweight and diagnosed with diabetes at 60, Malachi O'Doherty turned to what had been a favourite pastime of his youth in attempts to regain his health and energy. What follows is a complex and engaging personal account that is part memoir, and part commentary on what it is like to ride again as a changed man in a changed world. It is no longer the 1980s and the author is no longer in his 30s. Confronted with a new breed of bicycles, high-traffic roads, newfangled cycling infrastructure, and a society where cycling is far from a normative behaviour, the author finds himself in a state that is a mixture of wonderment, disappointment, frustration, and delight.




On My Own Two Wheels is a personal narrative. It makes no generalisations, gives no advice, offers up no lessons to the reader. But I suspect the experiences described will be widely relatable. I would estimate that as many as a quarter of this blog's readers are middle aged men and women who had cycled in their youth and have recently gotten back into it, or are attempting to do so. I have met many such cyclists riding for transportation in Boston, and more recently at randonneuring and club ride events. I recall reading that the average age of a Paris-Brest-Paris participant is in their 50s.




There are some specifics in Malachi O'Doherty's story that I find intriguing. One is the way he faces changes that have taken place in the bicycle industry during his time off the bike. Of those who return to riding after decades of absence, many gravitate toward the type of bike that had been popular in their youth - seeking out vintage or classic machines, even taking pains to refurbish them with period-correct components. Some want to ride an exact replica of the bicycle they raced or toured on in their 20s or 30s. Others purchase the kind of bike they had dreamed of, but could never afford back in the day. But the author falls into the category that prefers a clean start and turns to contemporary industry standards. He went to a bike shop, asked for advice, and purchased a modern touring bike - fitted with brifters and clipless pedals in leu of the downtube shifters and toe clips he had used three decades earlier. The new aluminium bike is a size smaller than the steel bike of his youth. It handles differently. Far from feeling at home on the alien machine, O'Doherty nonetheless accepts the new technology and the challenges it presents. I get the sense that for him this is part of the deal: As fondly and nostalgically as he recalls the spirited rides and long touring trips of his 30s, reliving the past is not what he is after; he intends to start a new chapter.




Another choice the author makes early on is to stay away from the racing and club cycling cultures - or any particular bicycle culture, for that matter. He describes his preferred riding style as "tootling," or simply wandering around by bike. And yet, he notices contradictions in himself - competitive impulses and cravings for speed that seem to come out of nowhere and undermine (or enhance? it's not always clear) his experience of the two-wheeled journey. He relates these paradoxes in cycling to paradoxes in life. Perhaps cycling offers a means of understanding himself better.




At the time of writing this post I am 33 years old. What draws a person to the bicycle at the age of 50, 60, 70 and beyond I can only speculate. Some are motivated by health and fitness-related concerns. Others take it up as a hobby after retirement. For others still it seems to be a matter of nostalgia. But regardless of the motive, a not uncommon result is that cycling becomes more than just an interest, but a way of life. A "second life," as one local cyclist in his 70s put it, throwing a slender muscular leg over the top tube of his racing bike and giving me a meaningful wink: "I am in better shape now than I was thirty years ago and my mind is sharper." I believe him. Riding with some exceptionally strong cyclists in their 60s and 70s has made me look forward to that age in a way I hadn't done before. I'd like to be like them when I grow up.




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*Malachi O'Doherty is an online acquaintance, and I am a great fan of his political books and commentary. A reviewer's copy of On My Own Two Wheels was sent to me by the publisher.

Winded

I remember in elementary school art class, our first assignment was to "draw the wind." The class was divided in their interpretation: Half drew an old man with long gray hair floating up in the sky and blowing gray swirly clouds; the other half drew trees swaying. I was one of the few who drew something weird - I think it was little animals running for cover amidst fallen flowers. The teacher wasn't pleased at all with my creativity and told me to look at the other children's pictures. But I never did get the hang of it.




Today I came close to crashing on my bike, and it was all the wind's fault. Well no, it was my fault. But it happened because it was windy. I was riding my roadbike alone and practicing leaning on turns, when suddenly a strong gust of wind blew in the direction of my lean. It had not occurred to me that such a thing could happen, but of course there is no reason it can't. It was an alarming sensation, as if someone was maliciously shoving me, trying to topple me on a turn. I was already leaning, and the gust of wind made the lean feel out of control.




Naturally, I panicked and tried to straighten the bike - in the middle of the turn, while simultaneously braking. As a result the bike became unstable, and then all I could think to do was attempt to bring it to an abrupt stop without letting it fall. I hit the brakes and came off the saddle at an awkward angle, holding on to the handlebars tightly and managing to keep the bike upright. Overall it was fine, except as my left foot landed on the ground, my right foot remained on the pedal and I twisted my ankle slightly. It's not swollen, but it hurts a little. Damn.




Of all the ways I could injure myself on a bike, it figures that it would be something ridiculous like this. Why did I have to panic and get all squirrely? Until today I haven't had that sort reaction in a long time. I guess what scared me is that the situation was entirely new. I know at this point how to right a bike if the front wheel hits a pothole, if another cyclist hits me with their elbow as they pass, or if I need to swerve around an obstacle. But the wind pushing me into a lean was unexpected and I didn't know what to do. In retrospect I should have just gone with it - I don't think the wind was strong enough to actually push me all the way to the ground. But of course that's easy to say now. Well, I hope my ankle is okay and I can ride tomorrow. I am trying to figure out what lesson there is to be learned from this, but more than anything I am just super annoyed at myself. And the wind.