This is the fixed gear conversion of my norweigan/italian formerly 6 speed friction downtuber.

It is 100% due to Casey’s live g-chat assistance.

another retro-grouch with photoshop wants to bring back engraved and polished C-Record, with honey hoods, real cork tape, and campy Record-level shellac!

there is a big brown bottle of beer.  bubbling beautifully when bestowed upon a beer glass.  today’s temps tip toward tedious: 95 in the shade.  the suds are salivatingly slick on my tortured, tropically torpid tongue.  i quaff quantities quickly, 10 oz, 16 oz, 20…  the glass glissens and gloats: i am a beer glass, fill me, you fuck.  I pour perfect pints, pound pristine product, aerating my posterior pointedly: the AC turned to 11.  the fluid flows, the feelings fluctuate.  half has held me, half will have to hold me.  a grill grins, charcoal coals cloistered in cardboard brown bags, begging beautiful ignition.

spring skips to summer, subliminally.

an interesting group of weird crap and reconstituted tubes

ok, so it looks like it’s going to be a nasty long post, and I am kinda getting bored writing and trying to assemble pics from 2 different cameras.

anyway, I almost missed this picture of some unidentified rider leading Stijn Devolder, Belgian national champion and domestique of the ultimate winner, through the Arenberg trench.

showing the Belge how it's done, relaxed on the tops!

looks like the cameramen saw him coming, though!
go ride your bike, it’s spring!

i was invited to chart a ‘rapha continental ride’, ie a bike ride in the continental style: dirt roads, mountain passes, grand vistas.  it will be part of a published series of rides documented in a classic style, ie from a van with medium format cameras, hanging out the window on 40 mph rutted descents.  and so.  i stared at maps for ages and plotted and pruned and preened a route.  and yesterday i woke at 6 am, ate an egg on a muffin and a slurped a big cup of coffee and headed out the door for a 3.5 hour drive through pelting rain, whilst listening to the kills very loudly, on repeat, to state college, the geographic center of pennsylvania.  state college is a bit lost in time.  it looks like what i imagine yorkshire to look like, but with more trees.  it is a valley hemmed in by low mountains that are carpeted in pines, mountain laurel, fir and oak.  the valley itself is agricultural, but the farms are small and tidy, many of them run by menonites or amish, so electrical lines are few, and wash is always hanging on impossibly long lines to dry in the breeze.

state college gets less than two months of sun a year.  the winters are long and sloppy, not cold enough for serious snow accumulation but cold enough to get the occasional 2-3 feet.  but when the sun does make its presence felt, it is remarkable, perfect temps, scattered clouds, deep blue skies…  as a side note, i lived on the side of mount nittany, and in my last year there i had a close encounter with a bear.  returning home i hear a noise in the bushes about 5 feet to my right.  i look over and see fur moving: a deer.  the deer stands up and emerges from the bushes, inches from the road.  i think, oh, thats odd, a person in a bear costume. right as i breeze by, i realize it is of course a real bear, but i am past and no harm has come and it happens so quickly that i do not have time to get scared: looking behind me i see him ambling across the street.  i believe he was checking for cars.

ahh but back to yesterday.  i stop for coffee at mile 120, (or so), at a proper david lynch roadhouse, with wood paneled interior, waitresses in smart red uniforms and thick diner mugs of steaming hot coffee, served too weak to bother with cream.  in proper lynch mode i buy a squishy donut.  back on the road the sky blackens from a flannel grey to a muted midnight.  the wind tosses the car half across adjacent lanes.  the mountain passes loom ahead, made eerie by the crack of good weather i can see at the top.  descending the backside of the twisting road, passing thousands of acres of thick pines and tiny deep blue lakes, i emerge into a world sheltered by 1200 foot mountains, which serve to hold the cold front at bay, roiling just a mile back in my rearview mirror.

i arrive at the yellow wooden post office with bright white trim in Lemont, the same post office that i picked up packages from for 2 years.  i am to meet a fellow named whit, who will be the ride leader, a philosophy major turned pro bike racer turned philly english teacher.  we will generate a cue sheet for the ride, i will drive, point things out, make the right turns, get us mildly lost, and he will diligently record our path on a custard yellow note page with a dying pen.

i have already driven 4 hours.  i am about to drive 8 more.  onward.  i point out local oddities, the house with the stream under it, the barn filled with rare bikes and roosters…  our journey takes us through rolling, impossibly scenic farm lands, past tiny streams, chuttering black buggies with dour amish drivers.

rusted cars about 3/4 of the way to milheim

on a side note, my toes are unreasonably tingly right now.

our rough mid point dumps us in milheim, a squalid down shoved at the bottom of a mountain pass that no one uses any more because the timber industry has dried up.  we are looking for food.  the local pub is closed, not open for 4 more hours.  turning back to the car we see what appears to be a missplaced western hotel, a rambling brown wood fascade with a wooden sidewalk/porch, and a carved painted sign reading hotel milheim: fine food, spirits, and lodging.  we walk in.

we wander thru 3 ancient dining rooms, the last of which oddly has old iron bathrubs serving as salad bar containers.  our journey ends in a darkly paneled bar, attended by a sparely tooth’d woman with a cackling smile and hair that looked like an eminent fire hazard.  we ordered the special, and 2 drafts of cheap local beer and sat back in our cracked fake leather bar chairs and taked about racing and not racing and marriage and gear ratios and beer and i think, how strange, i have only just meet the guy.

pine swamp road

leaving the hotel, meager bill paid (28 dollars, 4 beers, sandwiches, fries, and soup!) we emerged into a torrent of rain.  epic rain.  fitzcarraldian rain.  i had left my window down.  i sat on a soggy fabric seat and we drove on.  the road twisted and turned past sinking creek, now a flooding river, mere feet from the edge of the road.  logs drifted down like whitewater rafters.  we turned over a bridge and left the river behind, climbing into the mist on dirt roads that were build to connect logging communities that no longer exist.  the visibility drops.  mist hangs like spanish moss from the leaves of laurel, pines press in close, their tops obscurred in white.  we slide thru muddy turns and bump over sharp rocks, the suspension protesting and chattering.

penn

ahh the reason for the ride.  penn’s view overlook appears suddenly on our left, a shear drop of 1000 feet to the winding river we left below, mountains stretching out only to dissolve in the gray curtains of rain.  white clouds scatter at our foot steps.  whit has to snap a few pictures.  i hide under a scrawny pine, clinging desperately to granite boulders.
more views await, the car sliding around turns as even downshifts will not slow our progress.  we emerge on the otherside of the ridge, passing a lake that has been recently drained for dam maintenance, an oddly visceral site, like a corpse post autopsy.  soon we are climbing again, road names like vonada gap, synagog gap, mountain church road, locust grove road.  we drive a twisting ridgeline, and suddenly turn down, barreling down the mountain back toward the valley.

pine swamp view

midsentance i yell: fuck.  i slam my brakes and slid across the road.   i have almost run over a giant yellow cock.  the rooster is making his way across the road, oblivious to the fact that his death was nearly imminent.  whit chases him back home with his camera, and in fits of laughter we continue our descent, but at a more stately pace.

ahh i need more tea.

yellow cock!

so.  well.  how much more is there to tell?  those are the high lights.  we were mildly lost at one point, but after looking over a huge topo map that whit thoughtfully brought i divined the route (ok not really, we just sorta kept going and found the road) and we finished with no more yellow cock run-ins.  i took a slight break from driving and poked in an antique store for old cameras.  when i emerged, it was snowing softly.  i drove home having consumed 2 more cups of coffee and a bad gas station sandwich.

11 hours after i started, i returned to frederick a tired tired tired man.  mission accomplished though, and that’s the important thing.

all photos used up there are whit’s.  see more photos from this recon, whit’s last recon, and past state college rambles.

Ah the spring opener.  Where we get to see how fat everyone got over the winter and how annoyingly slim Joe stays, regardless of the season.

Spring Opener. Get it?

Yeah so, I thought 45 miles was a decent place to start.  Now: for the fat asses, (me) and the ladies (me) there will be a short cut back to the beer, making the ride roughly 30 miles.  That said, this ride is flatter than Kansas after the tornado season: 2700 feet of climing, with the largest hill being a 400 foot climb spread over a number of miles.  Where is this opener you ask?  Well, it will start in Union Bridge, which is sorta out where Big John lives.  A bit of a drive but not too far.  Why Union Bridge?  Well, this area is pretty close to a BOAT LOAD of roads that we havnt ridden but are charted via the Dirt Road Database.  In fact, there are about 12, count em 12! dirt roads on this route, comprising about 25% of the ride.  As they are all farm roads, they should be nice and packed down, with decent vistas and all that farmy zoo smelling goodness.  I reckon we can bring lunch and find a decent spot to gnosh it.  Did I spell gnosh right?  i assume its spelled like gnosis or gnome, or gnat, but frankly, I don’t know!

Len-E, sass-E, shad-E and stash-E, oxford comma not included.

Now… When?  Christ not this weekened, I am not in shape yet!  How about… the first weekend in May.  It will be warmer, more leaves on the trees, and I will be marginally less fat.  Always a bonus!  Saturday or Sunday, lets put it to the vote.

Oh yeah, the map!  Here.  & the elevation profile, below.

see, look at that hill! you cant even see it!

spoke card forthcoming.  don’t get your knickers in a bunch.

so mel and i used to be big into ultralight backpacking.  well not really big.  but we had all the kit.  and we made alot of our own: packs, compression sacks, a tent, jackets, hats, gloves, stoves, etc.  anyway. we learned how to pack light and small, and what you needed and didnt need.  hint: you want real shoes after a long hike, not foam insoles with kevlar toe loops for camp shoes.

anyway, i was talking to whit yesterday about sub 24 hour overnights, and he was saying he wanted to register for his wedding at REI to get some kit.  i thought: maybe maybe there are others out there who wanna know the same stuff, namely, who makes good, reliable, light, packable, and not terribly expensive kit for camping.  so i am gunna make a link list, and cory can butt in, to refute everything i say!

let’s start with the two (or 3) biggest purchases, not including panniers and racks, which is a can of worms i can crack later, if there is interest.  tents and bags.

now, i think its relatively common knowledge the synthetic bags are supposed to keep you warmer if your tent is floating down a freezing river.  however, in all my years of camping i have only once been in a situation where a sythetic bag would have been nessesary, and it was during a hurricane on an island.  and even then, i would have been cold and wet.  down lasts longer, compresses better, is natural, insulates more effectively, and costs more.  ok that last bit is the only draw back.  but campmor sells these great 20 degree bags (which mel has one of) that dont break the bank, are pretty light, hold up well (6 years and counting) and are warm enough for all but the coldest nights on the midatlantic.  and for those, there is this.  i have a lighter weight lafuma that packs to the size of a nerf ball, but on the colder nights, i am shivering and she is snug.

tents are a sticky point.  i have NEVER camped somewhere where i couldnt tie my tent up to a tree or use sticks to set it up.  however, some people are afraid of pole-less tents, or non-free standing tents.  if i lived in the desert or on the tundra… maybe i would be to. but i live in a land of trees and sticks.  so after some consideration, we chose an MSR missing link, recently discontinued but still easy to buy, brand new.  its light, spacious, well ventilated (better than any other tent i have ever used) and packs small.  its also availible for under 200 dollars.

ok those are the big items, not that the others wont add up.

the next expensive bit would be a stove.  MSR, who makes amazingly reliable stoves, has come out with the wind pro.  no fuss, fast set up, light weight, solid pot platform.  it is based on the ultra reliable whisperlite, a backpacking mainstay for years.  it weighs 5 oz more than the pocket rocket mel and i use but makes up for it in stability and usability.  dont worry, we will make up that weight elsewhere.

the trailhouse just turned mel and i on to the big agnes sleeping mats.  lighter, more insulated, smaller packing, and cheaper than thermorest.  yes, you have to blow it up. get over it.

headlamps are a good investment and they have come leaps and bounds in recent years.  i recommend this one. light, very bright (enough to ride a bike slowly after dark) and affordable.  there are lighter ones, there are brighter ones, but this is a good compromise.

cook kit: ti if you can swing it.  all you need is a pot and maybe if you are feeling frisky a fry pan.  snow peak makes great stuff.  is it nonstick? no.  but you can scrub it out with dirt, which comes in handy, and really the non stick stuff just doesnt last.  a worthy investment.

ti sporks are cool.  get one of these instead.

ti mugs are cool.  if you are made of money, get this.  if not, get a cheap cheap plastic texsport one.  functional difference: 0.  cool factor, also 0.

i use a sort of shallow lexan bowl to eat out of.  cheap, light enough, and you can abuse it.

coffee wise, there are all sorts of ways to go.  i like the simple and effective drip system, availible at any grocery store.  wanna go hyper lite?  pack tea bags.

water filters: on the east coast chances are, you wont need one because you are always close to a store.  if you might not be, just get some iodine tablets.

mel and i splurged (well i did) on a brunton mantelless lantern.  its very cool but heavyish and not very bright.  if i had to go at it again, i would get a snow peak lantern and just deal with the mantles.

granite gear makes great stuff sacks and compression sacks.  buy the ultra light ones.  they hold up fine.

this is a basic list.  i omited clothing (buy wool) and other sundries, like toothpaste and soap.  (travel size and dr bronners in a single use jim beam bottle, respectively)  you can figure that stuff out.  or not.  email me.  other random bits: always pack a rain coat.  even if it looks clear, it can act as a vapor barrier on cold nights.  like wise a hat is always a good thing to throw in.  i like to also bring a scrap piece of cloth to sit on.  do i ever remember to? no.  but maybe you will.  lastly, cheap target brand crocs make good camp shoes.  or off brand tevas, which you can also swim in.