Baiku

First time Overnight by bike

2011-08-25T15:40:00.000-07:00

in which seemingly dumb decisions turn out just fine...

I've been longing - for years - to do an overnight bike trip. I decided this was the summer but with the approach of the new school year, my window was narrowing, until last week when I reached the "now or never" point. To tell the truth, I was scared to go, and finding excuses why I couldn't/shouldn't. But T - bless her - kept prodding, and I knew I'd regret letting my fears of the unknown keep me from this dream. So with a good weather forecast and three days open, I finally packed the panniers. I had a lot of options and still didn't know for sure until the morning I left which I'd choose. I was intrigued by Leafslayer's recent Lolo Pass/east side of Mount Hood trip, but was a little worried it might get too hot on the east side, and frankly wanted a little less solitude for my first trip, especially since I'd be alone.

In the end, I decided to ride the Max light rail to the end of the line in Hillsboro, and head to Astoria and the Oregon Coast via Vernonia. That would give me a chance to ride the 20-mile Banks-Vernonia trail. And if the loaded riding and 1000' climb to Stub Stewart State Park did me in, I could call it good there and head home the next day. This was the route, from the Portland Bureau of Transportation's great bike route site.

Pictures from my trip are here, as well as day-by-day description of my route. I started writing that description here, and realized that where I went/what I did was not the essence that made this trip so special for me. In hindsight I probably rode too much and didn't stop and linger as much as I should have. But I know myself well enough that it doesn't surprise me when I push myself too hard - I ended up covering exactly 300 miles, driveway-to-driveway, in three days. And no, that was not planned, just a kind of freak round number coincidence. I realized that without company - someone to talk to and share the experience with - I was free to do whatever I wanted, and what I really wanted to do was ride. And without having to get home - or anywhere, really - by a certain time, I also realized that someone in reasonably good fitness can ride a lot in a day, even carrying a load. Yes I was tired at the end of each day, but it was a good tired, a satisfied tired, not a dropping from exhaustion tired. For the most part I was glad to be on the bike, and my destinations came when I was glad to get off the bike. In that way, this first bike camping trip was exactly what I hoped it would be.

One thing that finally got me out the door was deciding this first trip would be a learning experiment. Since I've backpacked and climbed quite a bit, I had the gear and experience to travel self-contained. I just hadn't done it by bike. I knew I could always turn around, and if I had some irreparable mechanical breakdown, it wasn't like I would be out in the wilderness. I could get home somehow. The hardest part - truly - was getting out the door. The rest of the trip just unrolled from that first pedal stroke, and it alll went remarkably smoothly for something with little real planning.

Here's a short list of what worked

My Bike: I took my regular commuter, a 1986 Nishiki Riviera GT. Friction shifting, 27" wheels. The ride was smooth, and I had no mechanical issues at all.

Luggage: I have a Bruce Gordon rear rack that carried 2 smallish "vintage" Overland panniers. On front I have a Nitto rack that held an Acorn handlebar bag. Other than strapping my quilt and flip-flops onto the rear rack, these carried everything I needed with room to spare. I forgot to weigh it all before I left, but I did when I got home, and figured that with the food I took and ate, I was probably just under 30lbs when I left home, not counting water.

Sleeping: I took my homemade Ray-Way 2-man tarp tent (left the bug net at home), a ultralight Thermarest 3/4 inflatable pad, and my homemade Ray-Way quilt (strapped on top of rear rack.) I had tons of room under the tarp and slept very comfortably. I had to scout sticks for the tarp the 1st night, but for the second I found a long piece of 1/2" pvc along the road and used the saw on my Leatherman to cut two 4' lenghts which I strapped onto the rack and took to camp with me. But that night I ended up stringing the tarp between 2 trees. For backpacking, I use walking poles to pitch the tent. For future bike touring I can see the value in getting about six 18" sections of aluminum tent pole to avoid the nightly stick hunt.

Cooking/eating: I took my Snowpeak Gigapower stove, which with the cartridge nested inside a Snowpeak titanium Trek 700 pot which nested inside a Trek 900 pot. I could use the smaller pot to brew a bunch of tea and have dinner going in the larger pot. Everything nested together in one nice light compact little bundle. For both dinners I ate Trader Joes Indian food retorts over Uncle Bens boil-in-a-bag rice. Both packages fit in the larger pot at the same time and took about 10-15 minutes to heat. Very tasty, very filling. For breakfast I went with Russ and Laura's suggestion of PBJ wrapped in a tortilla. I also brewed a big pot of tea first thing each morning. During the day I didn't really stop for lunch, but would stop late morning somewhere for coffee and a pastry, then throughout the day munch fruit/nut trail mix (raw nuts), whole wheat fig bars, and maybe stop and get a banana. I felt like I was regularly shoveling food in, which is why I really like handlebar bags.

Water: I'm kind of a camel. I tank up on tea in the morning and sip throughout the day. I consciously decided for this trip to only mount one water bottle. I had a pretty good idea I'd never be more than 30 miles from a store or park where I could refill, and only carrying one bottle would force me to get off the bike and maybe also meet some people. For the most part it worked. Surprisingly, the driest section of the ride was the last leg, between Yamhill and Hillsboro, when I was coming back into town. I leaned over the fence and filled up at a nursery irrigation sprinkler.

Clothes: I wore my Keen commuter sandals with light wool socks for riding and they were great. Off the bike I wore flip-flops. I decided for this ride not to dress like a cyclist. It was an NLR (No Lycra Ride). mostly this was an experiment in comfort, but I also had a theory that drivers would see me differently if I dressed like a tourist on a bike as opposed to a cyclist. most of the time I wore lightweight nylon Patagonia Gi II shorts and a puckerwear SS shirt. In the cool of the morning I wore a lightweight Patagonia R1 longsleeve wool zip shirt with my Marmot DriClime windshirt and some nylon running pants. I was as comfortable on my bike as I've ever been - this worked for me. I also had along my old Burley rainjacket; it stayed in the bottom of the pannier.

And I took Bagbalm and used it liberally. It worked - 'nuff said.

As an experimental ride, this was a roaring success. Getting this under my belt has given me a tremendous confidence boost to continue ranging out on overnighters. I scared myself away from returning over the higher and more remote pass up the Nestucca River, opting instead for the longer but more moderate Little Nestucca route. But already, a week later, I'm planning on how and when I can go back and ride that road.

I want to thank Kent (Mountain Turtle) Peterson, Michael (Leafslayer) Johnson, and Russ Roca & Laura Crawford (The Path Less Pedaled) who all, unknowingly, provided inspiration and encouragement with their practical and down to earth trip reports and touring advice, most of which can be summed up by saying, "Don't worry about the bike, don't worry about the gear, just get out there and ride." I did. I will.

In Praise of Ritual

2011-07-09T11:22:00.000-07:00

If you are oppressed, wake up about
Four in the morning; most places
You can usually be free some of the time
If you wake up before other people.

William Stafford, from "Freedom"

When I say to my wife "variety is overrated" and she rolls her eyes at me as she searches her library of cookbooks for a new recipe, that's a telling snapshot of one of the differences in our personalities and one of the great ways we balance each other. I like routine, and while I admire spontaneity, it doesn't come easy to me. I'm also aware that one man's ritual is another's OCD.

I'm a morning person, by necessity and temperament; bike commuting forty-five minutes to school and showering in time to be in my classroom by 8 A.M. means my days start early. I suppose I could sleep until the last moment, throw on some clothes, grab a pop-tart and roll out (for that matter I could do what nearly everyone else does, stay up late watching crap on TV, buy a second car, and drive to work every day). I prefer my ritual.

For nine months of the year, Monday thru Friday, I wake at 5:20, eat a breakfast of organic steel-cut oats, toast, tea, and grapefruit juice. I take my time with this part - it's a ritual, after all - since it's the only time of the day that I'm present and awake and the house is quiet, so I read as I eat. I find this short time is a good time to read short things. For instance, while the bible is a big book, it's easy to read 3-4 chapters a day over breakfast, and get through it in a year. I've done that a couple times and probably will again, but I'll need a new translation to keep it fresh. Recently I've been starting each day with poetry. Several years a go I picked up a copy of the Norton Anthology of Modern Poetry from a free pile left behind by a retiring art teacher colleague. As a recovering English Major, I'm plenty familiar with all things Norton, but I also realized that with the exception of smatterings of Whitman, Eliot, Yeats, and a couple others, modern poetry was an unfilled gap in my education, so I started reading. Three years, 1500 pages, and countless footnotes later, the gap is filled. I enjoy poetry, and looked forward to this ritual; one could do a lot worse than starting each day with oats, good poetry, and a ten-mile bike ride. I'd often think about a poem or run a couple lines in my head like a mantra as I turned the pedals. Usually I didn't, but still found the poems often set the tone for the day. Some poets were hard plowing - like reading Leviticus/Numbers/Deuteronomy in the bible. I know Ezra Pound is a giant of The Canon, but when the explanatory footnotes take up more page space than the text, you know you're in deep waters and you start looking for shore (ie, who's next?) Others, like Hopkins or Snyder, were pure delight, and their poems were the ones that stayed with me all day.

Finishing the anthology probably puts me in some obscure and exclusive group that numbers less than a dozen fools who read The Whole Thing including introduction, author profiles, and all the footnotes. I tell my own students life is too short to read bad books. This was not a bad book, and a ritual I'm glad I did. Next hole to fill: War and Peace?

In Praise Of Unnecessary Errands

2011-07-02T18:05:00.000-07:00

The edge of the world
is just across the threshold
the unknown that close

When I was 18 and working as a cook at Old faithful Lodge in Yellowstone Park, I once rode my bike - a red Montgomery Wards 10-speed - to the town of West Yellowstone for a burger and a milkshake. That was 62 miles round trip, and a couple thousand feet of elevation gain coming back. I was so tired after the climb past Firehole Cascades that I pulled over at a riverside picnic spot and took a nap on a table. But it was a really good burger, and probably one of the most memorably scenic rides of my life.

This last Tuesday I rode 25 miles round trip to buy the new Gillian Welch CD (which I highly recommend, btw). It's not that I needed to ride 25 miles to get it; I could have given my money to the faceless BigAppleiTunesStoreCorporation without leaving my seat. Or I could have done what I normally do and take a short ride in support of my Local Independent Record Store. But I had a gift card from my mom and no pressing business, so I went for a ride. I got some fresh air, saw some good scenery, explored a new trail, supported some artists who I think make the world a better place, and came home with two really fine collections of music (I also picked up Pat Metheny's new CD, What's It All About. Bonus points - name the 60's song he covers that contains the title line, the actor who starred in the original version of the movie, and the actor who starred in the recent remake.)

I don't much like driving, and despise having to run errands by car. But running unnecessary errands by bike, like picking up some great new music, or finding out if the pour-over coffee at Coava really is better than french press (I think it is), or checking out the new food cart pod on the Springwater Trail - those kinds of errands feel more like a blessing, like something that makes my day richer. I am thankful for unnecessary errands that get me out the door and into the world, and that add to my community rather than subtract from it.

Read, Ride, Repeat.

In Laudem

2011-06-29T22:52:00.001-07:00

"In Laudem" is Latin for "In Praise of," and I want to use it as a jumping-off point for an exploration of things and experiences for which I am thankful. I had a mini-epiphany yesterday and realized that ignoring the richness of each day was an invitation to discontent. It's a hazard of busy-ness and perhaps a crime against the community - family, friends, neighbors - I share my life with.

Edward Hirsch, in his book Poet's Choice - a collection of poems and commentaries that originally appeared as columns in Washington Post Book World - says that "praise restores us to the world again, to our luckiness of being. It is one of the permanent impulses of poetry." In the same chapter (a discussion of Gerard Manley Hopkins "God's Grandeur" which I wrote about when I began this blog) he quotes Auden, who says, "there is only one thing that all poetry must do; it must praise all it can for being and for happening."

So in that spirit - In Laudem...

Ronde redux

2011-05-15T11:24:00.000-07:00

One day in April
De Ronde Portlandia
Hell of the Northwest

For the fourth year in a row I've joined a growing group of local riders for the word-of-mouth "unofficial" De Ronde Porlandia. I wrote about the ride two years ago here. The appeal is hard to explain unless you're the kind of person - like me - who finds a certain joy in climbing hills. If you know the meditative feeling of slowly gaining altitude, you get it. And for me it doesn't matter much whether it's on foot or on a bike. I remember a couple long days on my Nepal trek back in 1980, switchbacking with a full pack up out of valleys for 5000' to reach some ridge top campsite or village. The rhythm of breath and step, the burn in the thighs and salt in the eyes - it's all a reminder of how well the body knows its work. I've climbed lot sof mountains with lots of wonderful people. As a Mazama climb leader I had the pleasure of helping lots of folks make their first real "climb." It seems to me climbers can be divided into two types; the "dashers" who just want to get to the top, and the "plodders" who enjoy moving up the mountain. I'm in the latter camp, and I prefer the company of those who aren't feverish for the summit.

Not many would call "De Ronde" a fun ride, but if you like to go up, there is a joy in sharing the burn with six-hundred other grimpeurs.

The build-up starts in early April when someone forwards the announcement that once again, there will not be an official Ronde on the Sunday following the Tour of Flanders (the inspiration for de Ronde and source of the kitty mascot.) This year the UCI didn't coordinate their schedule with the unorganizers, so the date fell on the weekend of the Amstel Gold, which was perhaps more appropriate for reasons which have to do with certain teams and their malted beverage sponsors. In short, de Ronde is about climbing, but it's also about beer. The day of the ride was mostly clear and windless, with highs forecast for the upper low 50's - perfect. I rode from home, and by the time I hit the NW industrial area, it was like a gathering of the clans, with kitted-out riders converging from all corners of the city.
I chatted a bit the last few blocks with a long-legged rider on a single-speed Bianchi. He'd never done the ride before. No fooling? De Ronde has been done fixed, but I hear the guy left his knees on Council Crest under a rock somewhere. On this ride, the derailleur is your friend.

College Place

Brynwood

The last three years I rode the Nishiki tourer - it's got fenders and is my only road bike with a front triple. That 26x28 combo comes in handy on this ride. But I also felt like I needed the lower gears to push a heavier bike uphill, and lots of guys ride it all on a compact double. Which I don't have. But I thought maybe the Trek 560 might be fun to ride. It was, but 38x26 was my lowest gear. I was able to ride Brynwood and College, but not without pulling into a couple driveways and spinning short recovery laps gasping like a fish. Still, I was happy to be on something a little more sporty. Besides, steep hills have been tackled on steel for decades.

I heard rumors of a keg at the top (unfounded), but with the team affiliation of the person definitely not responsible for this ride, beer was obviously on a lot of riders' minds.

The person definitely not responsible for organizing this ride

Beer

More Beer

Like years past, finishing time was about four hours, and the party on top all smiles.

Hosed

2011-04-15T16:08:00.000-07:00

The sun peeked out for a day or two earlier in the week. March set a couple records in Portland this year. Most days with precipitation (30 - the previous record was 27) and latest date to hit 60 degrees for the first time in the year - I think we barely squeaked it in on March 31. but we're back in full wet wintery/spring 40's and wet mode now. In commemoration:

April 14

Low gray sky cold rain
A shivery soggy joy
I'd still rather ride

April 15

Worms on the trail
it's OK I'll weave my way
while you find new homes

Read, Ride, Repeat.

Thaw

2011-03-31T08:19:00.000-07:00

Redwing's five-note song
in morning's merciful light
bids winter farewell

Creed

2011-03-04T22:20:00.000-08:00

Tarik Saleh says

ride your bike don't be an ass

what more do you need?

Hit and Run

2011-03-01T21:09:00.000-08:00

In which I get Smacked in the Head and Dream of Malcolm Gladwell and Al Qaeda

I started this a couple weeks ago. I violates the central Baiku principles of brevity and simplicity, and on a couple occasions I fear skates dangerously close to old-white-guy-manifesto territory. But whatever - I got it out of my system.

Saturday I got out for a longer ride. I had planned on hooking up with some team members for a jaunt out to Sauvies Island, but at the meet-up I found out JB had pushed the start a half-hour later and since my time window was kind of narrow, I headed out alone. At first I figured I’d just stick to the initial destination and maybe we’d cross paths there, but the nice thing about riding alone is being able to follow whims, and some quiet climbing was appealing, so I left Hwy 30 and headed up Saltzman to Skyline, and then out to the “Rocky Rabbit” loop. I ended up being a really nice ride, and I even got to play leapfrog with a small pack of Grundel bruisers.

I returned through St. Johns and right where Willamette Blvd turns into Rosa Parks, I was t-boned and laid out into the street by a runner who crossed without looking up. I was a little bruised, a little mad, but generally OK. The guy was in a hurry and after asking if I was all right, he continued with his run. I guess he was really lucky I wasn’t a car. It was a weird encounter and has me thinking a lot more about the price we pay when cars, bikes, and pedestrians come into conflict.

Last year, 62 pedestrians were killed by cars in Oregon, a big jump from the previous year. I say, “killed by cars,” but the car is, of course, just the instrument. I’m trying to be conscious of my language whenever the subject of car/bike/pedestrian conflicts comes up. The other day I went off (alone, in my head) on a poster on a cycling blog who claimed, “Cars hate bikes.” Whatever. Some drivers really have a hard time sharing the road, and some may even “hate” cyclists as a group. But we dilute the real issue when we lay the blame on an “cars.” A car is just a tool, like a bike or a hammer, and any of them can do damage if wielded recklessly.

That said, I’m also reluctant – especially since my “run-in” with the pedestrian – to lay a blanket of blame on all the drivers behind the wheel of the cars that killed those 60 pedestrians. When a cyclist or pedestrian is hurt or killed by a car, my instinct, like that of many cyclists, is to lay the blame on drivers, assuming inattention, alcohol, phones, or outright aggression. Last week we had a cyclist seriously injured by a driver who turned around to attend to her dog and veered into the bike lane. But Saturday’s encounter was a reminder that quick judgments that always blame the driver are often false, and the whole story is, of course, more complicated. If I had been in a car instead of on a bike when that runner collided with me, and if – God forbid – he’d been killed, it would have been his “fault.” I have to assume that at least some of those pedestrians killed last year made a similar mistake with tragic results. According to Portland police bureau traffic division captain Todd Wyatt, who spoke at the Active Transportation Summit in Portland last week, “most of the people killed last year who were pedestrians, most of the time it's the pedestrian's fault. I'm sorry but I want people to know that so they cross safely." A lot of people view that as an extreme example of victim-blaming, but he’s basing his information on the actual accident investigations.

And if you want to argue his point – ask yourself why. I think for too many of us (passionate cycling advocates) our agenda sometimes gets in the way the truth. What we really all want – and I think most people who drive cars would agree with this – is less people getting hurt and killed on the road. We have to know why it’s happening – beyond the simplistic “cars are coffins” sloganeering – before we can find real solutions. Captain Wyatt may bring a police bias to the issue, but that may also include knowledge from which we all can benefit.

Another story: like most cyclists, I also drive. Last week I had to run some errands in inner SE Portland on a dark, rainy evening. Negotiating the narrow side streets in the most cyclist-dense section of town, with parked cars blocking my view around corners, I was aware of how easy it would be to miss seeing a rider or pedestrian, especially if they were unlit and/or in dark clothing. And if I hit someone, like others drivers involved in similar “accidents,” I have no doubt I’d be vilified by some in the “cycling community.” But I’m one of them too. Aren’t I? Again, it’s too easy, too simplistic, to frame the argument as “cars vs. bikes” especially when most of us spend time in both camps.

Getting behind the wheel of a car is scary – and it should be. I wish more people were scared to drive. Cars can be incredibly destructive machines. I’ll be the first to admit that the consequences of a mistake or aggression behind the wheel usually have far more serious consequences than the same action taken by a cyclist. I dread causing an injury – or worse – to someone while I’m behind the wheel. And it would be no consolation to me if it was the walker or rider’s “fault.” I have no doubt that each driver who was behind the wheel when those 60 pedestrians were killed will never ever forget that moment. It’s a tape that will continue to replay often without warning and beyond will. Some may, in the future, suffer symptoms of PTSD. And who was at fault makes no difference at all – blame brings no peace - in terms of the permanence of the loss to those left behind.

So what do we do? First, we drive or ride or walk like our lives and the lives of others depend on it, because they do. What we do – including how we choose to get around - can and does profoundly affect our community every day. I’ve been thinking a lot about that – especially since reading this: The whole speech is good. But around the middle of page 9, Malcolm Gladwell begins discussing the difference between Private good and Public good, and the importance – the necessity – of investing in Public Good. It’s what Andrew Carnegie did when he built those wonderful libraries we still have all over the country. It’s what Kennedy called for in his famous “What you can do for your country” speech that launched the Peace Corps. And it’s what bike infrastructure is doing in creating safer, healthier, and more livable communities – whether you actually ride or not. Those focused on Private good ask “What’s in it for me?” while those who seek the Public Good know that’s the wrong question, and are willing to give – in time, taxes, and toil – to make their communities better.

The terrorist attacks of 9/11/2001 killed 2819 people. Since that day the U.S. has spent billions upon billions of dollars to make us “safe” from terrorism. In the process, the “War on Terror” has become perhaps the world’s biggest growth industry But safety is, of course, an illusion, and the fact is that even if we hadn’t gone to war in Afghanistan and Iraq, or created a Department of Homeland Security, or started body scanning airline passengers and conducting warrant-less wiretaps – if we had done nothing but bury the bodies and grieve - each of us would still, today, be far more likely to walk out the door and get killed by a car than by a terrorist. In 2008 nearly 38,000 people were killed in car accidents in the U.S. That’s about one every 12 minutes, and it’s the leading cause of death for people between the ages of 2 and 34. The carnage costs each of us about $1000/year, and the total annual bill is about $165 billion. Each year 2 million Americans suffer permanent disability in a car crash.

What’s my point here? And what does this have to do with terrorism (or Malcolm Gladwell for that matter?) 9/11 was a horrific tragedy, and I don’t mean to imply that we, as a nation, didn’t suffer and shouldn’t grieve collectively. And of course we have a responsibility to attempt to ensure that this kind of tragedy doesn’t happen again. But at some point we need to ask the hard questions about how far we’re willing to take our anti-terrorism campaign, and whether what we’re doing is worth what it’s costing us, financially, as well as in personal freedom. For ten years now, it seems as if anti-terrorism measures have received a blank check. Businesses are thriving by thinking up new ways to make Americans “safer” from terrorists, for which the government apparently just takes out another line of credit. But are we safer? Do you feel safer? Does the world look safer? Ten years later, what’s the return on our investment?

In all the discussion regarding the causes and cures of our current financial crises, it’s only recently that anyone is hinting that perhaps we might begin to crawl out of the debt hole by scrutinizing more closely our military spending. I hope this leads us as a country to begin to have the discussion we need to have about what “homeland security” really means.

I would propose that if we’re really interested in protecting American citizens, there’s lower hanging fruit than chasing Al Qaeda around the wilds of central Asia. Instead, it’s time to shift our focus to investing in substantive changes that bring real results that will not only make us safer, but will improve our quality of life and the way our communities feel.

This is where Malcolm Gladwell comes in. In the speech referenced above, and in the introduction to his book Outliers, he talks about the town Roseto, Pennsylvania. This was a place founded by immigrants from Italy and named after their Italian hometown. Gladwell discusses them because of the remarkable physical health of their community. The people of Roseto showed almost no incidence of heart disease, high blood pressure, hypertension, cancer – the things that kill people before old age kills them. And their health, after intense study, could not be attributed to diet, exercise, locale, genetics, or any other medically understood factor. Ultimately, The people of Roseto were found to be healthier because they were a community, in the true sense of the word. They went to church together, raised their kids together, ate together, celebrated together, sat on their porches in the evening together, and grieved together. They lived in little houses set right next to each other and were in constant contact with each other on a daily basis – they lived, in Gladwell’s words, “cheek by jowl,” and the fact that they shared their lives as a community made them physically more robust.

Now Mr. Gladwell doesn’t mention bicycles or sidewalks or cars, but it isn’t hard to fill in those blanks. Today, Roseto is no longer any different than the communities that surround it. It no longer has the unique community feel, and its residents suffer the same health maladies of obesity, diabetes, and heart disease that are killing Americans all over the country. But the lesson they left behind can show us a path to Homeland Security that no amount of military spending can buy.

Ask politicians and transportation officials what their number one priority is and they’ll most likely tell you that it’s safety. But look at how the transportation dollars are actually spent, and it’s pretty clear that safety, while a priority, takes a back seat to the speedy and efficient movement of people and goods. The bulk of transportation money is going to new interstate projects, bigger bridges, and wider freeways – in other words, increasing the car-carrying capacity of our nation’s roadways. And the ugly truth behind this - the truth I suspect we all know but rarely speak – is that the sacrifice of ten of thousands of lives destroyed on our roads each year is a price we have been willing to pay for the privilege of driving wherever and whenever we want. Think about it – just one-hundred years ago car crashes didn’t exist. Now, you would be hard pressed to find someone in this country who hadn’t lost someone close or had a family member permanently disabled in a car wreck. Road carnage is ubiquitous; it’s part of our shared culture now. We drive by, shake our heads, and press down on the accelerator once we’re past the flashing lights.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. City planners around the country are waking up to the improved quality of life offered by intentionally designing roadways to accommodate all users – not excluding drivers, but finally recognizing that community and road planning that leaves out pedestrians and cyclists ends up creating communities that are unhealthy, unsafe, and ultimately self-destructive. Increasingly, people are fleeing the auto-centric suburbs and bedroom communities surrounding our most vibrant cities, and seeking out neighborhoods where they aren’t required – by the design of the community itself – to get in the car every time they need to buy a loaf of bread or want to dine out at a local restaurant.

The time is ripe for transportation planners, elected officials, and community activists to put their heads together and realize that investing in infrastructure that allows people the choice to not drive is a win-win proposition. We create jobs. We create vibrant neighborhoods that people want to live in and businesses want to locate to. We improve safety. We reduce health care costs. We create community – and maybe along the way, we create some new Rosetos – places where people begin to get to know their neighbors, share their streets, and live happier, healthier lives.

A final story. Twice in my life I have been called before a Grand Jury to testify as a witness to a crime. The first time was because I saw a young man toss a handgun in a hedge as a cop was making a U-turn to question him. The cop didn’t see this because he was in a car; I did because I was riding by on my bike. I pointed it out to the officer as he was questioning the young man and when his partner found the gun, the guy was cuffed and taken a way. The second time happened because I was walking in my neighborhood and a neighbor of mine had her money snatched at our local ATM. She yelled, and I chased the woman who snatched the money, shouting that I’d continue chasing until the police showed up. She stopped, the police came, and she was arrested. I told her “not in my neighborhood, you don’t.” Again, if I had been in a car, this never would have happened. My point here isn’t to brag at all – in both situations I don’t remember thinking about what I did; it just seemed like the right thing to do. I was taking care of my neighborhood and my people. But I also know that the chances are slim I would have noticed anything if I had been driving, and if I had, there’s a good chance I wouldn’t have bothered stopping – most people in cars don’t.

I would propose that for a lot less money than we’re currently spending in Afghanistan and Iraq right now, we could begin to create communities where people want to walk and bike. Calming traffic and making streets safer for pedestrians and cyclist means more eyes on the street and less crime. Neighborhoods where people feel safe are neighborhoods where people care about each other, and where they want to protect and foster that feeling of community they are building together. If you ask me, that’s the true definition of Homeland Security.

Say Hi

2011-02-03T21:26:00.000-08:00

Old couple with dog

two friendly girls on bikes

love when they say hi

East Wind - Day 3

2011-02-02T08:05:00.000-08:00

Bitter cold headwind

black pyramid of Mount Hood

rides a corral sky

Curbside Recycling

2011-01-15T22:34:00.000-08:00

Riding home Monday evening I spotted this old Schwinn mountain bike parked on someone’s parking strip. A beater to be sure, but a perfectly functional beater, and in Portland, even beaters parked unlocked and unattended are thief magnets, so I rode by, glancing over my shoulder as I wondered what was up. It was then I realized that some other folks on the street had already put out their garbage and recycling. So I went back, leaned my bike on a tree, and knocked. The guy who opened the door, noticing my helmet and garb I suppose, said simply “Please, God, take it.” That was all the invitation I needed so I thanked him and walked the final blocks home with 2 bikes – one with very flat tires. One concerned driver stopped to gruffly ask “Is that your bike?” I’m not sure which one he figured didn’t match me, but I briefly explained what was up. It was good to know at least one person would question the shadiness of someone wheeling 2 bikes down the sidewalk.

The bike is a 1986 Schwinn High Sierra. I recognized it immediately as I was riding by – the Charlie Cunningham designed roller-cam brakes are pretty distinctive – because I just picked up a nearly identical bike two months ago Actually, the first one isn’t technically ‘mine” as I only brokered the deal and it’s owned by the new bike club – “Wheelz” – that Mark A and I started at our school. That bike costs $40 and while rideable now, will supply hours of wrenching experience for our budding adolescent bike mechanics.

Both bikes are the same “bronze” color with chocolate brown rear triangle, mostly Suntour friction drivetrains, and plenty of braze-ons for racks and fenders. The specs can be found here. The one I just picked up is way too tall for me – the seat tube is 23.5” C-T, but I don’t really care; I just want to get it back out on the road or trail. Speaking of trails, in my poking around for info on this bike, I came across this interesting tidbit. Seems Ned Overend won the Pacific Suntour MTB series in 1984 riding for Schwinn on a stock High Sierra (though by 86 he had a custom Paramount MTB for racing.) So while the bike may fit the “clunker” status by today’s dual suspension-crabon fibre-disc brake-200mm travel standards, it carries a fine pedigree.

Once I got the bike home and looked it over, I discovered some pretty interesting modifications, highlighted in the pictures below. Obviously, the person who owned this bike was tall and rode it in the dark. The 12V headlight is huge – I think it’s a motorcycle headlight – and the customized heavy steel plate mount is tapped directly into the handlebar, not clamped on. Initially, I was stumped by the customized padded platform bolted to the water bottle bosses. A step to help mount the bike? Combined with the mismatched pedals – plain cheapo newish platform on drive side, original Suntour beartrap with custom heavy-duty adjustable rubber toe strap lag bolted to custom made steel plate on left – I thought the bike had been modified by some giant machinist who for some reason could only pedal with his left leg. Neighbor Paul solved the mystery, pointing out that the plug on the end of the wires from the headlight would just reach a motorcycle battery installed on the platform above the bottom bracket. And then there’s the grease fittings. The one below the bottom bracket may be stock – some 80’s MTB’s had them – but I’ve never seen one on a headtube. Who was that guy? There’s also a magnet on the front wheel and one on the left crank, so whoever he was he tracked his mileage and cared about cadence.

I’m a believer in beausage, and this bike’s got it in spades, though of a very workmanlike quality - more like a 50-mission B-17 than a vintage Mercedes. It may be ugly as sin, but someone put a lot of love and sweat into making this bike their vehicle, and they obviously rode the heck out of it.

Another thing I noticed is the small chainring seems to have the most worn teeth. If the rings are all original, it’s no doubt from hauling that battery around. And I’ll bet dollars to donuts he pulled a trailer too.

It still gets to me that these early mountain bikes, or ATB’s, or utility bikes, or whatever you want to call them, get so little respect. This bike was on the trash heap and headed for a meltdown, though a few hours work on my part should have it ready for another 25 years of faithful service with only basic maintenance. Meanwhile, a Schwinn Varsity from the same year, with a gaspipe frame, considerably lower grade components, steel suicide wheels (at least in Portland; you’re just asking for it if you take those out in the rain) and a steel cottered crank, will fetch $100-$250 from the fixter crowd. And while a Varsity is fine, for what it is, I’ll take the High Sierra any day.

Final point: 1986 and the bracketing years were a helluva time for bikes, if my basement is any indication. Between T’s Bridgestone T-700, my Trek 400, Trek 560, Nishiki Ri viera GT, The Miyata Terra Runner, and Big C’s Japanese Bianchi, we’re rocking the mid-80’s bike boom.

"Suntour XC-Power" "Cunningham Design"

Is that a step? The customized battery platform...

...for powering this bad boy.

Wouldn't it be easier to just buy a toeclip?

Grease fitting on back of headtube. Dreading what I'll find when I open it up, but I'll bet the stem isn't stuck.

Speaking of stem. Mismatched shifters - right is 6-speed Shimano indexed. Check out light switch on the left and that forged cable guide.

False Spring

2011-01-14T07:45:00.000-08:00

This week brought a pretty crazy swing in our weather. Once again, hopes were dashed for Portland snow, and a forecast that initially predicted a possible 6 inches Tuesday night fizzzled to "possible flurries and freezing rain," Which was pretty much all we got. Tuesday evening I rode home from work in full winter gear, a strong tailwind howling out of the gorge, and the first dry snowflakes dancing in clouds of ground snow ahead of me on the Springwater. Tuesday night brought light freezing rain and a 2-hour late school start. My ride in was still a little dicey; the car lane was clear, but the bike lane a wet sheet of ice in most spots, and since I was coming in later, there was more traffic. By the time I left for home, the thermometer was up to 50, and it hasn't dipped below since then. We had plans to visit friends in Sisters for some XC skiing this 3-day weekend, but that's not gonna happen.

Dry snow on Tuesday

swirling around my wheels

Thursday I dodge frogs

Three frogs cross my path

Can they think that spring has come

in January?

May Can End Now

2010-05-26T07:36:00.000-07:00

Trees drip, grass bends low

Slugs and bunnies love the rain

But I've had enough.

You've Got Mail

2010-04-20T08:33:00.000-07:00

First this showed up:

Then I got these

Courtesy of Chrome's "Turds to Gold" promotion.

Somehow, The idea of wearing these shoes when I ride my fixie to the Old Country Buffet for the senior discount on the all-you-can-eat waffle buffet is pretty appealing

Three-Capes 300

2010-04-15T21:58:00.000-07:00

Frost on the summit

Lingering at Grateful Bread

in fine company

After feeling pretty good about how the Birkie went for me last month, I started thinking an even longer distance was possible and maybe even could be kinda fun, so I watched the weather and decided to toss my cycling cap into the ring for the Oregon Randonneurs Three-capes 300K. I've been wanting to ride to the beach for years, and since you gotta get back somehow, I figured why not ride the round trip. It's just a bike ride, right? A long bike ride.

But when the original date (April 3) approached, I was getting cold feet. Turns out they could have been even colder. School & U.P. homework had me buried, short on sleep, and missing family time, so when the forecast was cold, wet, windy, with probable snow on the coast pass, I admit I was plain scared to tackle this. Fortunately, the ride was postponed. Turns out that was a good decision.

I still didn't get enough sleep the week before, but left myself a cushion Friday and turned in just after 9 for the 4 A.M alarm. And I couldn't sleep. Despite the glass of wine, the homeopathic tranquilizers, the sleep deficit, by 12:30 I was getting frantic. Then the alarm went off and I went on pre-ride autopilot.

There was a group of 40+ready to roll from the Grand Lodge at 6 and I headed out with the pack into the frosty predawn, all blinky lights and Loc omotive Breath.

I thought it was kind of cool how our pack of around 15 hung together pretty much to Timber Road - it might have been the cold and crosswind we were catching from the east that had us huddled together. Once we started climbing to the first control, of course, things spread out. I was a little worried about overriding the turnaround for the first control, but as there was a staffed table with coffee & donuts, it was pretty obvious. I arrived in a group of 8 and since I had tanked up on tea and juice, had to take a little walk into the trees after getting my card signed. When I returned to my bike, I was alone, and had to chase hard if I didn't want to ride alone. Fortunately I caught on to the back half of the group before we reached Hwy. 8, and we swept up some others as we started heading up over the coast range.

I had started the day determined not to allow myself to get caught up in any macho hammerfest - "I'm just gonna ride my ride" I told myself. But on the other hand, when the company is pleasant and riders are willing to work together taking turns at the front, it can be easy to push it beyond comfort for a spell and tell yourself you can drop out anytime. Plus, with a tailwind pushing us up toward the pass, it was fun watching the miles roll by, and easy to shut out the voice telling me I was gonna pay for this later. We were able to maintain a fairly intact group of around 10 riders clear up to the coast summit where I snapped a quick rolling picture and we launched into a speedy decent through the sweeping curves down to the Wilson River.

There was a little frost on the shoulder, but It wasn't a worry. Many many years ago - before I switched my major to English, I was an electronics engineering major and took a physics class. The instructor was an avid cyclist and mountaineer, and frequently included his avocations in his lectures. I remember him telling us that - counter-intuitively - skinny tires get better traction on ice - it's something about the sublimation coeficient of the hydrogen molecules... or maybe I saw it in a Wallace and Gromit cartoon. Anyway, I told myself it's not the ice you slip on, it's the thin layer of water you create with your tire on the ice. Therefore, if you go fast enough, you can't slide, right? Anyway, we stayed upright and about 7 of us were still together when we got to Tillamook. A longish stop at Safeway included my first coffee of the day, and I decided I needed to slow it down if I was going to survive the other 2/3 of the ride. Apparently that's what my comrades were thinking too because we rolled out along the bay and up to Cape Meares at a more leisurely and sustainable pace. The climbs up Cape Meares and Cape Lookout were stiff, but not too long, and the scenery, of course, spectacular.

We still had a group of 7 riders when we reached Pacific City and Grateful Bread, where More Coffee, a big scone and some lounging in the sun got me ready for the next leg which turned inland - and into the wind. It was never outrageous, but it was to be a presence for the next few hours. The route up the Little Nestucca river and over Sourgrass summit to Grande Ronde is really a splendid ride. The grade was never steep, the traffic so light we took the lane nearly the whole time, and the mix of river canyon and farms just delightful, especially by bike.

Our group thinned a bit after Grande Ronde, though we picked up JD (?) at the store. He asked us why we were so slow, and Michael Johnson told him we had a plan. Apparently, our plan was to suck JD's wheel for the rest of the ride. He led MJ, John D, and I out of town and through the tricky transition to Yamhill River road (take the exit, apparently), but I think maybe he decided our company wasn't stimulating enough after the last "zip-tie" control so the three of us were left to finish the evening. This was the part I was most worried about ahead of time. On paper the route finding seemed tricky - so much so that I had printed maps of most of it (which I forgot at home, naturally.) I was imagining myself lost in the dark as I tried to navigate the turns through Sheridan, Dayton, Amity and Lafayette. So I was glad for the company and glad it was still light when we hit the home stretch. With about 15 miles to go and our pace dropping, John mentioned the temperature drop I'd been feeling as well. I think the three of us must have had some kind of telepathic powwow to the effect of "stop and put on a layer, or ride harder?" MJ apparently realized that if we pushed the pace a little, our finishing time might qualify us for some special Rando-Ninja designation, so harder won out over layers, and we launched into the final miles at a good clip, pulling back into Forest Grove with a smidge of light still in the sky. Whew.

Thoughts: I was really bummed when my schedule kept me from this ride last year, and determined to make a stab at it this time. All in all I think it went great, and while 2 years ago I would have said no way could I ride that distance in a day, now I know it's possible - and possible to do it enjoyably. My low point was just after 200K when my back and shoulders were aching and my left knee pinging a bit. Surprisingly, that eased off and I felt better physically at the end than I did several hours earlier. I love having the Acorn Boxy Rando bag and the access it gives me to food, camera, etc while riding. I also brought the Minnehaha saddle bag I just got cheap from Restoration Hardware, mainly because since I'm riding 27" tires, I wanted to bring a rolled-up spare since I doubt I could depend on anyone else bailing me out if I suffered a slice. Probably overkill, though. For food, I brought the large fig bars, a bag of raw nut/dried fruit trail mix, a couple clif bars, a small bag of dark chocolate and black licorice, and a hefty PBJ on homemade sourdough. Along the way I bought 2 coffees, a scone, and 2 bottles of juice. I never felt low on fuel, and returned with about half the fig bars and trailmix, and never touched the Clif bars. I don't want to cut myself short, but there's room to trim.

I'm also happy with how the bike did. Part of me is kind of smug that I did this in a 25+ year old production bike that cost me barely more than $100. Not that I don't see changes I'd make in a custom rig. But I realize that while a lighter and better fitting rig would be nice, it's the trip, not the bike, that makes the experience worth doing. 400K now seems within the realm of possibility, if I can figure out a cheap bright headlight option. And hanging out after the ride, grabbing a beer and some fries, and chatting about the day as others wheeled in was a much better way to end the ride than packing up and rushing home.

Joyriding

2010-03-26T22:10:00.000-07:00

Leaving Vernonia

to trade pulls down the Nehalem
on a splendid day.

A year after my longest ride ever, I got the chance to repeat the feat and see what the Birkie Brevet 200K is like without the cold and wet. Wonderful, it turns out. I'm not sure, but it seems like there were less riders this year. Not enough suffering in the forecast? Hmmm. We started in the calm almost dawn with patches of frost on the side of the road and cold hands and feet for the first stretch to Vernonia. I fell in with a group of seven guys somewhere in the mid-backfield, and we stayed more or less intact for the duration of the day, which was kind of cool. I may shed my anti-social tendencies yet. A couple of them seemed to know each other, but as I'm still a newbie at this, and don't really know anyone, I figured I'd just play it loose and ride my ride and not sweat it with trying to stay on anyone's wheel. The whole thing just seemed to play out organically. Someone would pull over for a pee break and the whole peloton had a male bonding experience, controls were casual chatty affairs, then someone would stretch and mount up, and pretty soon everyone was rolling and taking turns again pulling the train. Fluid and very comfortable. Well, except for that 20mph pace for several miles into Birkenfield. But we got that out of our system and part two passed more calmly.

Rest stop at Birkie

last year it was the wood stove

this year it's the sun

Preparing for the ride with all the school/university stuff was a little stressful. On Thursday I decided to pull the 6-speed freewheel to drop some lube in and when I took the rear skewer off I found this:

For the record, that's a rear axel and it's supposed to be in one piece. Lord knows how long it's been broken - thank God for skewers, eh? If it had been a bolt-on I'd have dropped my wheel. On second thought, if it had been a bolt-on it would have been a solid axel and it would take the torque of a tank to snap one of those. I didn't have time to make it to a bike shop, but fortunately was able to cannibalize another 126mm rear axel and everything was fine.

Back to the Birkie, by the time we were over Timber Rd. the second time our group was splintering, and I got dropped on the downhill curves but was able to chase back on before the highway and three of us finished out the ride into Forest Grove, our time a quite decent 9:10 - and that included some long-ish rest breaks. But here's the funny thing - and I vowed that evening I will never do this again - I didn't get the names of the other guys I finished with; I just know them as Orange Ira Ryan and Blue Kona JTS. Looking at the results I see that their names were Gene and Stephen, but I'll be damned if I know which was which.

Of course - and this may sound sexist but I think I'm right - if we'd been women, we'd have known one another's names (and a whole lot more) before we hit the first control. Guys are funny sometimes.

I was feeling kind of guilty about being gone from kith & kin for a sunny Saturday - and the first day of spring break - so I checked in and high-tailed it home, later regretting I hadn't sat for a burger and beer with my comrades for the day. Next time.

At Wahkeena falls

a giant salamander

the only traffic

The Birkie was the beginning of Spring Break, and I had sent out feelers a couple weeks earlier to the team inquiring whether anyone wanted to join me for a jaunt out the gorge past Multnomah Falls to the Oneonta tunnel. I emphasized that I was On Vacation, would be riding my Touring Bike with Handlebar Bag and Triple Chainring. Read: No rotating-paceline-sprint-to-the-next-sign hammerfest. A couple indicated interest so Catherine, Jeff and I met at Bipartisan Monday morning and headed out Marine Drive in light showers. Catherine had raced Sunday so she was just looking for a spin and turned around at Troutdale, where Jeff and I headed up the Sandy, taking Woodard Rd. for some "gratuitous climbing" before reconnecting at Springdale.

Despite Spring Break, traffic was super-light and we took the lane nearly all the way from Crown Point to the tunnel. With all the recent rain the falls were all in full flow, the frogs and birds nearly as loud in some of the dells, and everything green green green.We turned around at the tunnel, stopped for coffee at the falls, and

headed back up up up to the point, then down to the Stark St. bridge and had a quick zip home.

Overnight bike date

Edgefield gardens budding

my hand rests in yours

T had a gift certificate for a night at the Edgefield,with a little left over for food and whatnot, and asked me if I wanted to join her on a kid-free date. Now, I love my kids. But I loved her first, and time away together is as rare as a tasty school lunch. So Yes, please. And with a nice forecast we decided to bike there. Riding is a great start to any date, plus it would give the new sale panniers ($27 each @ Restoration Hardware) a test run.

We called ahead to make sure they could accommodate our steeds, and they even switched us to a suite with a "sitting room" (bike lounge?). Sweet.

Edgefield is tré Euro, with no TV, the

baño down the hall, and grounds that encourage mingling. I even ran into Joseph Rose, who had also biked out with his family for a little R & R. So T and I ate, walked the gardens, ate, visited the soaking pool, ate, did some wine tasting, and ate. I slept like a baby that night.

The next morning - after breakfast in the Black Rabbit, of course, and another leisurely garden stroll - we decided to take the long way home. It ended up being a little longer after we got turned back at the Stark Street bridge by an ODOT flagger who took his responsibility to keep defenseless cyclist from being crushed by big scary dump trucks very seriously and would not, despite our assurances, believe that we could safely walk our bikes up the shoulder of the road where the repaving was taking place. Ah well, we detoured back to Troutdale and up to Gresham and we were on the Springwater and had a quiet ride home. For a mini-vacation, this was about perfect, and good for my soul in a way I hadn't realized I needed.

Change-up

2010-03-05T21:22:00.000-08:00

Evening on Tick marsh

"crit-rit" call the peeper frogs

"ling" answers brass bell

I'm putting in 10 hour days on a regular basis now, just to stay on top of things and avoid bringing school stuff home to grade, which I'm mostly successful at. It's good, and I'm enjoying myself, but there's never enough time in a day, is there?

A couple of weeks ago I decided my head and heart would be happier if I avoided traffic at the end of the day and took the long way home. When the days were longer I liked ending the week by riding the Springwater trail home on Friday. I can access it in Gresham just blocks from school, connect to the 205 path near Foster, and jump off close to home, making for about 12 traffic-free miles. It's a dark ride in winter, without street lights, and since it's home - literally - to some pretty dodgy folks without visible means of support but plenty of needles and 40-ouncers, I'll stick with the streets until the lighter months. But along about the end of February there's enough lingering light that I can get on at 5-ish and make it home before dark.

I've seen some interesting stuff, though. I stopped and picked up a big Buck knife with a duct-taped handle right next to a homeless couple loudly airing their dirty laundry in the middle of the trail. not sure if it had been thrown and missed the mark, or accidentally dropped, but they didn't argue when I rode away with it, hoping I'd helped avoid the fight getting truly ugly. A couple days later I thought I'd scored another free bike down in the blackberry bushes below the trail - until I noticed the woman lying next to it. I stopped to help, of course, figuring she'd drifted onto the soft shoulder and taken a tumble. The slur of her embarrassed apology reinforced what my nose was already saying. It takes a lot to be too drunk to ride in the daylight, but she was there. I helped her up to the trail and after she assured me she was just scratched and was going to get on Max, I left her standing there, her helmet still looped over her handlebars where it was when she took her tumble. I saw her again today sitting beside her bike, reading a book in the sun by the trail. The same day I helped her I came up behind a half dozen saggy-pantsed young men, out for a stroll. Normally I ring the bell to let people know I'm coming and slow to allow them to move to the side. But sometimes the gut says stealth is better and giving warning will just put me at a disadvantage. I put on a little speed and was by the rear guard before they could do anything but shout. the lead guy, however, gave chase for a few strides, and shouted out if I knew where Powell Butte was. Um, it's that big hillside looming over you on the right? I suspect he knew that, but wanted to see if I was dumb enough to actually stop to answer his question. Not today.

Mostly, though, it's a really lovely ride. The wild cherrys and old abandoned apple orchards are in bloom, Johnson creek is full, the red-winged blackbirds are perched on dry cattails and calling their girlfriends, and get 10+ miles of brake-less and car-free riding to clear my head and heart.

It's helping.

2010-01-08T08:08:00.000-08:00

Brought to a dead stop

next to the uprooted tree

by a fist a wind

Catching My Breath

2009-12-29T20:01:00.000-08:00

Over my shoulder
I can still feel summer's heat
tonight the snow falls

I hadn't intended to neglect this blog or pull the plug, and while I knew the end of summer would bring big change, I didn't anticipate how busy I'd be. This Christmas break with two weeks away from teaching and my university classes has been truly restorative. Breakfasts with my children, walks to the coffee shop, rides without a destination, and now this little un-forecast mini snowstorm are all food for my soul, and I'm so grateful.

I had intended to write an entry titled "Freeride" (cue Edgar Winter Group). Now, I'll just summarize: My district's decision (financial) to end my reading program, and my "transfer" to a new position/location also entailed a salary cut. And summer school - which I've taught for the last four years - was also one of those "extras" the district trimmed, so I was left with more free time and less money this summer. This ended up being a blessing. I decided to dabble in a little bike racing, but couldn't afford the entry fees. But I was time-wealthy and I raced the whole Mount Tabor road series, and the whole PIR Short Track mountain bike series for free by volunteering before and/or after my races. I also volunteered at all three of Portland's Sunday Parkways events, first with my son as "Intersection Superheroes," then helping with set-up, and finally as a "roving mechanic." My three shifts earned me the coveted Sunday Parkways special edition bandanna.

I also got a free ride for the Portland Century (next day sign removal), the Hottest day of the Year ride (truck unloading), The Night Ride (with my son in exchange for flyering for the Cirque du Cycling), and the Tour de Lab (bike parking at Hopworks Biketoberfest). All in all, a summer of good bike fun and a drawer full of free bike t-shirts (that became nightshirts for my girls.)

Racing in the mud
over engine breath cowbells
and shouts "Go Redmill!"

But best of all was the royal treatment I received for the Cross Crusade. The Baiku version is I know someone who knows someone at Bob's Red Mill, and they knew I eat Bob's organic steel-cut oats every day and preach the Bob's goodness, and I was asked to join their new cyclocross team. I got a free kit with Bob's picture on the shoulders, and in exchange for riding and running and leaping around in the mud with my bike, I received free registrations and some BRM whole grain goodness. How cool is that?! This year I joined the mens 50+ cat for some hard & fast competition. I held my own, once came close to a top-10 finish, and got my first experience with flatting and running it out (twice). Most of all, I had a blast racing with a great group of guys.

And I needed that relief valve this fall. This is my 20th year teaching, but getting ready I felt like such a rookie; I was nervous, scared, excited, and I spent more time getting my classroom and curriculum together than I ever have before. I've got a couple of great groups of 6th graders, and I'm teaming with some incredibly hard-working and dedicated teachers. Plus, my new principal is a former colleague, and a very funny and talented guy, and I feel fortunate to be part of his team. But it has been and remains a lot of work making the transition to a new building and new curriculum. I'm reinventing myself as a teacher. I hadn't realized until I made the move how burnt out I was getting in my former position. I thought I was better than that, but I had allowed the canned curriculum and isolation to lull me into getting comfortable and it was killing me as a teacher. The new job is more work for less money, but - strange as it sounds - I feel a lot better about what I'm doing and I look forward to every day. That hasn't been true for a couple of years.

And I'm finally in an administrative program, deciding to attend the University of Portland after a disastrous experience with Portland State that really was the final straw in a long string of bad experiences with them stretching back to the late 80's. The classes at U.P. have been fantastic, and I feel like this fall I've transitioned from being cautiously curious about working in educational administration and uncertain of my own abilities, to ready to get in and start creating the kind school I believe kids really need. I feel like I've spent the last 20 years learning and gathering and preparing for this. I know I'm idealistic and I know nothing resist change like a public school bureaucracy. And maybe I'm sick that way, but knowing this just makes me want it more.

Elk Lake vacation

2009-08-13T09:39:00.000-07:00

From my bed I watch

mist ducks sunrise on Elk Lake

blue flame heats the tea

Six days in the Central Oregon cascades with my family and our friends from across the street. Good to get out of the routine, get on/in the water, and sleep outside. A couple cool wet days (the soaking pool at McMennamins' St. Francis school was a godsend), but mostly beautiful.

Cascade lakes highway

there is only up or down

guess which one hurts more

The New MegaBike 4000

2009-07-31T08:40:00.000-07:00

Riding on the back

my daughter calls out to me

look yellow roses

The newest addition to the stable is finished - I call it the MegaBike 4000. Actually it's a '94 Bridgestone MB-4 ("MB" for Mountain Bike) but like the Six-Million Doll ar Man, it's become something better, stronger, slower because "we have the technology," courtesy of the Xtracycle Free Radical kit. Thanks to this kit, an old & outdated (but sturdy & well built) MTB has been given new life as a modern SUB (Sport Utility Bicycle).

I first became intrigued by the idea of a "longtail" conversion when former team mate Charlie Wicker showed me the rig he had built up for his fledgling coffee business, Trailhead Coffee Roasters. That started the wheels turning (so to speak). Hmmm, I could haul lots of stuff, put kids on the back, maybe even go bike camping... the "X" extends the possibilities of all kinds of bikey fun. So T and I started planning and budgeting for it. - they're not exactly cheap (but compared to this, it's a bargain.) Just about any bike will work for building a longtail - you could even build an Italian fixed X. But ideally, the Free Radical should be built on something solid, sturdy, and stable, which means a good old steel mountain bike. It also means bike shopping which, next to riding, is one of my favorite pastimes. But here's the slightly embarrassing part of the story. The MB-4 was not the first bike I bought for the conversion; it was the 4th. See, the problem is that , like a mini-van, the X was intended to be a family vehicle, meaning something my wife and I can both ride. But like most mini vans, in reality, it's more her rig than mine - which is fine with me. It's just that, apparently, it took me 4 tries to learn that whatever frame was to form the base of the X, it Must Meet Her Approval.

The first candidate was a bike I picked up at a garage sale while T was away for the weekend - a 1986 Miyata Terra Runner for $25. Of the 4 bikes considered, this is my sentimental favorite. Maybe it's because of the price, which sort of implied the old owners were putting it out to pasture. But I also have a soft spot for lugged frames & forks, which are rare for MTBs. And the "Holy Terra" (yes - I kept it) just oozes character with all those silvery alloy friction shifting shiny bits. I thought T would be thrilled. Her opinion? "Too purple" and "it has a dumb name." Huh? It's Latin! What could be better for an English major?

The second candidate was a newer, Taiwan-made, TIG-welded Voodoo Hoodoo I found on Craigslist for $100. It's a solid bike in great condition, with a lemon-yellow metal flake paint job and a really cool skull logo on the seatpost. I had approval on this one, but after a day of deliberations, the verdict was something along the lines of "It hurts my eyes."

So bike three was kind of the opposite, a subdued & practical workhorse in a dark gray/blue matte finish. It's a rigid-fork 1996 Specialized Rockhopper. This was also a Craigslist buy and this time T was with me for the test ride. She liked it fine, especially compared to the earlier experiments, but it was more like the way someone might like a burger after a couple meals of brussels sprouts and tofu. it doesn't necessarily mean it was a good burger, but just that it was a step in the right direction. I think we payed $50 for it. It joined the others in the

basement, waiting for the kit and the final decision - who will be the Next American Longtail?!?

And then the MB-4 popped up on Craigslist. Now, I'm not a card-carrying BOB, but I have an affinity for the Bridgestone/Rivendell aesthetic, and the old catalogs are admittedly great reading. And when T and I were dating, I helped her parents buy her a bike - an MB-6 (which by the way is still rolling as a cow-bike on sister-in-law Tami's ranch.) Plus, T's main ride is a sweet little 1985 Bridgestone T700 touring bike whose restoration was a delightful labor of love for me. The girl selling the MB-4 knew it was a nice bike and despite my feeble attempts at dickering, she knew she had no reason to sell it for less than the $100 she was asking and I knew it too. The smile on T's face when I brought it home was all I needed to know that I was done searching.

Getting the kit, however, took awhile. If you couldn't tell by now, I'm kind of cheap. My sisters claim it's the McKee in me, refering to my maternal grandpa who was a notorious coupon-clipping, horse-dealing "dabbler" in real estate. It's true that I hate paying full price, especially for big purchases. The short version is that it took a couple phone calls and 3 visits, but I was able to parlay my team membership & the "special team discount week" into 25% off the kit.

After sitting in the basement through spring, my vacation - including no teaching summer school for the first time in 5 years - gave me the time to jump on the build. I started by stripping and rebuilding the bike, including new bearings, chain, BB, cables and housing. I also did a little upgrading. The original rear cluster was a 7-speed freewheel, which would have been fine, but a peculiarity of the Xtracycles is the prohibition on cantilever brakes - which this bike had. The reason for this is apparently that, because canti's stick out horizontally from the seatstays, they c ould interfere with the bags and supporting "V-racks." Eyeballing the bike now that it's done, I doubt this would be a problem. But the "required" V-brakes or disc brakes also have better stopping power than canti's, which might come in handy when you hit the downhill stopsign carrying 150lbs of groceries and a 3-year old on the back. Because the stock components included integrated brake/shifters, and because canti brake levers are generally incompatible with V-brakes, it meant I was going to need new brake and shift levers anyway. So when I had the opportunity to get a set of 8-speed shifters & nearly-new cassette for $20 (Craigslist again) that made my decision to upgrade from 21 to 24 speed.

Sidenote: the guy I bought the shifters from was kinda interesting. He sort of runs a bike mechanic business with his housemate in a trailer park in Gresham. When I showed up at 4 PM they were both drunk, with Hendrix blasting from the stereo. The seller was asleep on the couch and after his housemate told me to go in, I had to shout to wake him up, and I scared the crap out of him. He literally jumped, then staggered around saying "dude! dude! You scared me, dude!" Then laughed hysterically at himself. But he dug out the shifters and cassette, and even threw a new chain in, wishing me luck as I pedaled away.

Since the new shifters didn't incorprate brake levers, and I knew I needed V-brakes, that was next on my list, and I scored. Performance Bike was opening a new store downtown, and for

the grand opening was offering a $20 store card to the first 100 people in the door Saturday AND Sunday. Of course my son and I rode down and were in line early both days. In addition to the $20, they also had "spin the wheel"where you could win more store money (or other stuff like water bottles, "big prize," etc.) Saturday my son and I each spun $5, and Sunday he scored another $5 and I hit $10. Plus, they were also giving $5 cards for bringing in recycled innertubes. I could only dig up a couple Saturday ($5 each) but scrounged several more for Sunday for the maximum $15 each. Our grand total: $145 store credit, plus some schwag like snacks, chain lube, and sunscreen. The only hitch? It had to be spent that weekend. Of course, V-brakes just happened to be on sale, so we got a full set for the X, plus some sunglasses and a tailight for my son, a bell, new shorts, a clear jacket (for cyclocross) and a couple new tubes. It felt like bike Christmas.

I had avoided opening the Xtracycle box until all my ducks were in a row,

but once vacation started and all the parts were lined up, I hauled everything out to the driveway and spent the better part of the weekend on the build. The FreeRadical is a pretty well-designed kit and marketed as a lifestyle item, kind of like an ipod or a BMW I guess, but cooler. Included in the box are all the practical bits and pieces, including such welcome items as an extra length of chain, longer rear cables & housing, and a kickstand.

They also include a great sheet of stickers

and a packet of business-size cards titled "Eleven Answers" to hand out when asked the inevitable questions you get when you roll with an X. Examples: "Light! As little as 5 lbs." & "Yes, but you won't want to."

The final construction was actually easier and quicker than I had anticipated. I've learned from experience to anticipate glitches and problems that need solving, and the free radical didn't really present any. The extension attaches at three points -to the rear dropouts and the chainstay bridge with special doodads designed to hold it secure.

Once the FR was on and the new V-brakes mounted, it was just a matter of installing a new chain, routing new cables and housing - (using the included rollamajig to reduce rear derailleur friction), putting the wheels back on and getting everything fine-tuned before sliding on the V-racks, strapping on the Freeloader bags, and snapping on (literally) the Snapdeck.

When done, the girls were begging for a ride, so after a short run up the street to make sure nothing fell off, we were ready for a loaded test ride.

Success.

The only thing needed was a stoker stem and bar for carrying a passenger. You can get fancy with this if you want, but most folks find a cheaper solution. Mine included a used stem, shim, and mtb bars (which I chopped down) from the CCC. Total cost around 20 bucks. I topped it off with purple sparkle grips and streamers, a Hello Kitty bell (plus a red pepper bell for the pilot), and now it's fully customized and fit for both girls. Eventually I'll probably get the Footsies if I can find a deal on them, but since Lil' C couldn't reach them anyway, I bolted a pair of bar-ends I had lying around to the front of the V-racks and she's now got somewhere to put her feet.

The following weekend was the 2nd of three Sunday Parkways events - the NE Portland version, and after riding a loop as a roving mechanic with the MegaBike 4000, I met up with my family and we took another lap together. I think this bike is a keeper.

Pioneer Spirit

2009-06-08T10:01:00.000-07:00

One of the biggest rides put on by the Portland Wheelmen each year is the Pioneer Century on the first Saturday of June. Last year it was my first century ever - my previous longest ride being just shy of 80 miles. It was a breakthrough for me, a personal goal, and a very satisfying accomplishment. Plus it's a beautiful ride. Since that time I've tucked a couple more centuries under my belt, along with a 200K. I figured I'd celebrate the anniversary with a return.

I had some pre-ride preparation anxiety. After sunny and 80's a couple weeks ago, we've had some weirdness in the sky. Cool, showers, a big thunder/wind storm Thursday. Friday was forecast to clear but it never did and I rode home from work in the rain. I still didn't know Friday night which bike I'd ride (Nishiki with fenders or Poprad w/o). And I don't even want to talk about the multiple contingency clothes I laid out. And then there was my knee...

Saturday dawned cool and cloudy, a little damp. I decided to trust the forecast (clearing) and took the Poprad, dressed in light wool, and tossed in the cheap vinyl rainjacket just in case. Fortunately it never made it out of the car. I got to Canby about 6:45 and the parking lot was already busy - the course opened at 7:00 and while there were a number of loops folks could ride starting much later, most of the 100-mile riders like to get out there ASAP, including me.

I picked up my packet, futzed with my clothing some more - despite the gray clouds and occassional drops I was really trusting the forecast and ditched the tights and waterproof socks, opting for the new (happy birthday to me!) SS wool, shorts, and light windbreaker. It proved to be perfect.

I left alone and rode alone for the first 10 miles, just warming up and enjoying the farm scenery. I got passed for a few fast folks, and then a paceline of not quite as fast folks went around me and I decided to fall in. At one point there were 7 of us sharing pulls and this went on quite well for about 10 miles. One guy flatted so he and his partner dropped out. Then our lone woman dropped off as we entered Mollala, and finally, the big hill leading up to the first rest stop blew the rest of us apart. But it was fun zipping along in a train while it lasted.

My knee started getting a little sore right at the beginning of the ride and I was anxious about that. This has had me really nervous recently. I have never, ever (knock on wood) had any knee issues. But this started up the last 20 miles or so of the RACC, and has nagged me for the last month or so. It's right on the surface and top of the right knee cap, and internet/self-diagnosis points to saddle position induced tendon strain. Of course it probably doesn't help that I adjusted my saddle height right before RACC, or that I went for a run the day after, or that I have ridden my bike 20 miles/day nearly every day since. But on the other hand, after a week or so it wasn't too tender and seemed to be getting better, and this last week I hardly noticed it at all. I figured if it really started bothering me I could pop a couple "vitamin I" for the pain and infamation, and if I needed to, bail after the first 55-mile loop. Fortunately, the pain never happened, and while I noticed it if I thought about it, I didn't really. A huge relief. But I also decided to be smart and skip the run on Sunday.

The section of the ride from Mollala up Sawtel Road to the high point at Kokel Corner (1500 ft.) and back down Maple Grove is the best part of this ride if you like hills like I do. You have great views of the Willamette valley in a mix of farmland and forest - well, mini-forest as most of it is actually Christmas tree farms - and the road is smooth and the downhills eye-watering.

The century ride is actually 2 loops out from the Clackamas County fairgrounds, the first one 55 miles and the second 45. I was back from loop 1 about 10:45 and stopped at the car to change. I didn't need to, but knew I could probably ditch the windbreaker and some of the food I was carrying. Plus, the day before the ride Dennis from BRM had dropped off the new kit and I wanted to display it, but with the threat of rain had opted for the wool. Now that the weather (and I) were warming, I figured what the heck, and dressed in the red & gold. I walked over to chat with these guys, and check out these, and these. Chris D commented on the BRM presence and said he liked the shoulder picture. The Man himself was busy at the fajita grill, but Chris D speculated on whether they could talk him into a similar Jersey portrait. The consensus was that CK wouldn't go for it. Their plan was to shut down the fajita line at 2:00, which meant I was going to have to hustle on the 45-mile loop if I was getting anything besides cookies post-century.

I kind of surprised myself by how casually I took the second loop - no food, no jacket, just pedaling along. I knew coming in on the first loop that I had a tailwind, and I remember thinking "this is going to bite me at some point." It did. The last 8 miles or so into St. Paul were pretty brutal with the headwind. One of the guys I was chatting with at the start of the the morning was speculating on the potential road debris from Thursday's storm. The section near the Willamette river from Champoeg to St. Paul was where I really noticed it, especially anywhere that cottonwoods bordered the roads there was lots of sticks and branches on the shoulder. There were plenty of folks out with chainsaws and trailers cleaning up their yards and mini-farms. I saw a couple teenagers working on the branches of a downed tree that was easily 6 feet in diameter and had fortunately fallen parallel to their house. Thankfully the hop vines seemed to survive the winds just fine. Between the BRM "No Grain No Gain" kit, and the acres of hops, I was feeling like a rolling 2-wheeled homebrew.

Just before St. Paul, when I was about ready for a break from the saddle and some munchies, I came to Heirloom Roses. These guys grow and sell some of the most beautiful and hardy roses you'll find anywhere. My wife gave me one of these for my birthday several years ago and this year it put on quite a show. Last year I pedaled through, but since the headwind had me a little winded, I was carrying a camera this time, and roses were on parade just up the valley, I decided to stop.

The rest stop in St. Paul was well stocked and I fueled up for the final leg and headed out with a group of 4 other guys, but not before taking a picture of a really nice mixte. J. P. Weigle made one sort of similar to this. You don't see many with that single-to-double top tube design. For that matter, you don't see many mixtes when you're out riding a century. Maybe in France. The world needs more mixtes, I think.

It was nice to work in a paceline again, especially with the headwind. I figured eventually we'd get to the point in the loop when the headwind turned tail and with about 15 to go that happened. Our group dwindled to 3 and then 2 when we hit Donald and one guy decided he didn't want to continue in with an empty water bottle. So Mike and Mike took turns towing each other into Canby. MIke #2 was doing his first century ever and feeling it, so I kept up the banter hoping it would make the final miles roll quicker and they did for both Mikes. I stopped at the car to ditch my bike and change my shoes. It was 2:10 when I got in the fajita line, but they were still serving. They asked if I wanted one or two. What a silly question.

RACC

2009-05-06T12:52:00.000-07:00

I seem to be in a groove of doing a long ride about every two weeks this spring. Last Saturday it was the RACC Century - The Ride Around Clark County, put on annually by the Vancouver Bicycle Club. I had never heard of this ride until just after last year's edition - but it seems plenty of other folks have since it's one of the more popular local supported events, apparently. After riding it I can see why - it's a beautiful course.

I briefly considered riding to the start, and next year I'm committing myself to doing just that. But Clark County was - before this ride - a big blank spot in my cycling experience and I wasn't entirely confident I could get myself to the start by bike without bumbling around the suburbs. Plus it was raining, which is becoming a pattern for my long rides so far this year. The course

opened at 6:30 and I was checked in, pinned, and riding just before 7.

The 100-mile route initially followed the same course as the shorter routes (18, 35, 65), so the day began with a fair number of us headed east through wide, smooth, quiet suburb streets to Lacamas lake and the first rest stop. Somehow - at 17 miles - this came sooner than I was expecting. I wasn't really hungry so I didn't linger long before heading around the lake and into the more rural sections of northeast Clark County. There were plenty of rollers but no big hills leading to the east fork of the Lewis river. One of the riders I talked with mentioned the hills really started after the second rest stop at Moulton Falls. My lower back started getting sore during the six mile stretch along Lucia Falls road- a good excuse for a few minutes off the bike - and I was glad to reach the second rest stop where I walked back up the road to snap a couple

pictures and stretch the legs a bit for the anticipated climbing.

The VBC volunteers had really loaded up the rest stops and they're well-known locally for their "trail putty" ("road putty" would sound too gross, no?) which is a mix of peanut butter, honey, and powdered milk. I'm not sure how the powdered milk would sit with me for the long haul, but it would be interesting to try this stuff as a primary fuel for a long day. The combo of fat/protein/carbs seems just about ideal. I ate some along with a couple cookies, a banana, and a pbj, and saddled up.

The next 30 miles or so had the biggest hills of the day, though there was never anything that felt endless or over-steep. Somewhere along Jenny Creek my computer quit on me at 62.99 miles. I stopped a couple times to adjust the magnet and check the wires but got nothing, so I was riding "blind" for the rest of the ride. I decided all I could do was zen it and I didn't worry too much about it since the Dan Henry's were clear. But I did realize that if this had been a self-supported brevet, the loss of the odometer would have been more problematic.

One thing I really look forward to on long rides - well, anytime really, - is a good cup of coffee. Or two. I usually start my morning with tea and save the coffee for when I get to work and the day is rolling. There was coffee at the beginning of the ride but I wasn't ready yet. Of course, the rest stops didn't have any; I suppose under the assumption that it's a diuretic and can't be good for you on a long ride. For me, the psychological benefit is more than worth any piddly risk of dehydration. Besides, it's mostly water. I know for myself I can hydrate just fine on coffee, and it sure taste better than lemon-lime Gatorade. Anyway, at about mile 89 or so there was a series of home made signs for a water/snack stop some enterprising girls had set up in their driveway. They were selling bottled water and giving away (with a donation jar) cookies & rice crispy treats. I started to ride by before calling over my shoulder "You don't have any coffee, do you?" Turns out they did and it was good.

I had heard horror stories about a couple of hills in the final miles of this climb that seem designed to inflict physical and psychological pain on weary riders. Maybe it was the coffee, but I really didn't see what all the fuss was about since they were over almost before they started. After getting a break from the rain for the last couple hours, it started up again as I rode into Vancouver, but I made it back to Clark College relatively dry before the big storm hit. I was home - with more coffee - when that happened, and hoped everyone was off the course by then.

Boring Ride ?

2009-04-20T14:16:00.000-07:00

It wasn't. With the forecast for stellar weather (finally), several of the team mates seemed to be chomping at the bit to get in a long country ramble. The idea of a jaunt out to Multnomah Falls was briefly entertained, but braving the narrow shoulders of the scenic highway on one of the first warm days of spring was reason enough to look for someplace more remote. Ever heard of the town of George, Oregon? Me neither.

The Rubber to the Road guide list two routes called "Boring - hardly," the short version and the long one. Six of us set out for the full-meal deal Sunday morning. Not exactly bright and early like I hoped, but early enough. The first of many climbs came where 181st becomes 190th on the south side of Gresham. A lovely fast swoop down Butler past Persimmon golf course put us square in farmland and my old neighborhood at the base of Tower hill. Up and down Sunshine Valley road led into the town of Boring and the beginning of what Fergus called "the ride of a thousand hills."

The back 40 on this ride was all up and down in the Cascade foothills, with just enough flat plateaus to allow some casual spinning before dropping into the next drainage. We crossed Eagle Creek, Deep Creek, Tickle Creek, Johnson Creek, and a bunch of other creeks, some of them several times. The high point of the route is the lollipop loop out of Eagle Fern park and up to the "town" of George. There's a real pretty church there and not much else. This Sunday there were about a dozen kids playing outside. Maybe George is always this way, but we remarked at how quiet the kids were. Like, eerie quiet.

The drop back down took us through big fresh clear cuts on perfect sweeping curves. It looked like a lot of logging roads I've driven to get to climbs here in the northwest, except it was paved. I wish I'd taken a picture of this portion, but I didn't want to stop in the middle of such a fun descent. I checked my altimeter on my bike and we dropped about 1300 feet in about 10 minutes. Of course, we had to gain a lot of that back getting out of Eagle Creek. And it took longer.

Back in Boring after the last climb out of Tickle Creek, everyone was feeling pretty toasted and no one complained when new-guy Andy's bike flatted just sitting in the parking lot at McCall's store in Boring. A few minutes delay in hitting the road for the final stretch back into Gresham was fine.

I bought a muffin and some grapefruit juice since for the first time this year I actually ran out of food. In the absence of a support van, I was handing out fig bars from my snazzy notebook pencil organizer/handlebar feed bag. Maybe it was my imagination, but I think the derisive smirks disappeared in the face of empty pockets and the hunger bonk.

all in all it was A Splendid Day. Here's the route.

Consolation Ride

2009-04-12T13:55:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I really wanted to be doing this. But with the girls gone to the ranch, big C here with me, and a pre-Easter dinner planned with my parents and sisters, I had to content myself with something shorter. Still, It ended up being a good long enough ride on roads new to me. And it didn't rain, which was a welcome break.

The three deer and I
watch the Canby ferry cross
but I board alone

Cars, part 2

2009-04-06T14:56:00.000-07:00

Six-hundred riders

chase the Lion of Flanders

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up.

On Saturday I joined a bunch of other cyclist, including about a half-dozen guys associated in one way or another with the team, for de Ronde van Oeste Portlandia. I did this ride last year and was glad to have some friends along for the suffering this time. The weather was beautiful - really, the nicest day so far this year, which probably helped drive the turnout, which was estimated over 600. I think that's incredible for something that's unofficial and just organized by word-of-mouth and the net. You can read more about it here and here.

Unfortunately, one of our teammates, John, was seriously injured on one of the descents when a driver made a left turn directly in front of him and a group of riders. John was probably traveling 30+ mph and the accident sent him over the truck and left him with a badly broken leg and numerous other injuries. Our group had been split in half by a wrong turn a little earlier, and I came upon the scene a couple minutes after the crash. Fortunately, John was conscious and

responsive, but he was in a lot of pain. There's no telling for sure, of course, but what I saw was as good an argument for the value of a helmet as I have ever seen. We were all left fairly shell-shocked, and those who were literally at his side when the collision took place were quite traumatized. The comment that most struck me was "it looked like a bike explosion."

In a previous post I talked about the price we as a culture seem willing to pay in order to drive. For me, this tragedy puts a violent and angry exclamation on that. I'm sick of what feels like the senseless brutality that drivers of cars inflict on vulnerable cyclist and pedestrians. And I'm sick of the voices that dare to say that cyclist and pedestrians are somehow to blame because the roads were made for cars. I refuse to use the term "accident" for this type of violence because to do so implies that it was inevitable, and that there wasn't a human at fault when there was. I'm not claiming the driver assaulted John, but when someone is at the wheel of a car and his recklessness or lack of attention or poor driving skills cause injury, a crime has been committed. I don't say this out of malice toward the driver, who, if he's like most of us, must feel sick with remorse. But I say it because I believe that if things are ever going to change - if road safety for all users is ever going to be a priority, we need to see more bad drivers charged with a crime. I hate saying this, because I take no pleasure in anyone's punishment, regardless of what they have done. But the close calls are beginning to wear on me and those who love me. Those of us who choose to regularly commute by bike can recount frightening close calls by the dozens. And despite the familiarity with bikes that inner-Portland drivers have (and bless their hearts most of them are great at sharing the road), there's still far too much selfishness and aggression out there. I want the driver who hit John charged with a crime not because I want him punished, but because I want the rest of the drivers out there to get the message that they must take the responsibility of getting behind the wheel as serious as a heart attack. I want the same rules for the road that I have for my classroom - that is, doing the wrong thing must be harder and more uncomfortable than doing the right thing. When a motorist can send a cyclist to the hospital and get back behind the wheel and drive home, something is seriously wrong.

Face It

Your car, like mine

cannot leap through giant hoops of fire

or loop, upside down, in gleaming tunnels of steel

it cannot scale cliffs, ascend roadless peaks

or plow through towering drifts of snow

your car will never speed across Bonneville,

cut midnight cookies in New York City,

or drag race in a parking garage

Your car is not sexy

and doesn't make you sexy either

it is not a weapon or a toy

it does not symbolize freedom

independence America power

an animal or you

Your car, like mine

is an appliance

like a washing machine or a refrigerator

good to have

necessary to the job at hand

a tool fit to its purpose

and when your car has been used with gratitude

and carefully kept from carnage

guided through neighborhood streets

gently purring past children as they play

at the end of the age of the auto

your car, like mine

will come to a stop

maybe in a quiet pasture

to rest and rust and return

until all that remains

is a dull orange headstone

leeching iron back into the earth

photos by Dave Roth

2009-04-02T08:33:00.000-07:00

Flat road in flat light

from my tires to the sky

seven shades of gray

Brevet #1

2009-03-30T12:06:00.000-07:00

Someone referred to my first randonneuring ride two weeks ago as a "baptism," which was appropriate in terms of it being my first, but also in terms of wetness. Snoozeville wasn't a Episcopalian-style dip-your-fingers-in-the-holy-water sprinkling either, but a full-on Pentecostal take-me-to-the-river dunking. Apparently my soul still needed a bit more cleansing because Saturday's Birkie Brevet was more of the same.

After Snoozeville I kind of obsessed about the tweaks I could make that would allow me to double the distance while hopefully improving my comfort. I rode Snoozeville on my Poprad, which seemed a little stiff, and my position was not quite as upright as I wanted. Plus, the Fizik saddle was comfy to about 50 miles and then, not so much. Since I'm new to the whole rando thing I figure I'll just take each ride as an experiment. What works, stays, and what doesn't, well, it's just a bike ride - how bad can it get? So I thought about riding River (my 1986 Nishiki Riviera touring bike - which is also my commuting bike), but knew I had to make some changes. Since this was stuff I wanted to do anyway, the Birkie was the kick in the pants I needed to get it done. The stock bars were, like, 38cm, and the stem maybe 50mm. I've read that in a relaxed position with hands on top of bars the bar should be in a sight line with the front axle. Well, I was scrunched up and looking at the axle waaaayy out there in front of the bars. And the 0ld-school 600 brake levers, while cool looking, were too small for my hands and stuck out too far from the bar - they're just weird.

So I picked up some (barely) used Nitto Noodle bars at Citybikes, dug out a 100mm Technomic stem I had, and slipped on some old Dia-compe levers that fit my hands better. I also swapped out the old Fujita saddle for a Brooks Pro which came on the mid-80's Japanese made Bianchi I bought from a teammate last year and built up for my son's cruiser. Truth be told, the saddle was the main reason I bought the bike. I figured I was probably going to end up spending a hundred bucks for a nice saddle someday anyway, so it was practically like the bike was free, right? I told my son the bike could be his, but the saddle was mine. I also added a cheap Vetta computer from the REI outlet since I'm lousy at guestimating mileage. I finished the job with new cloth tape and 6 coats of shellac and River was ready to rando. But hedging my bets I also made some modifications to the Poprad. Teammate Greg sold me a slightly shorter stem for cheap, and Jeff generously gave me a Thompson post to replace the stock carbon one I had (I can't trust bike stuff that looks and feels like plastic.) I've read good stuff about WTB Rocket saddles, and Scott had one he offered me super-cheap, so I made those swaps as well.

Now it was time to experiment, and since I was on Spring Break, I had time to for test rides. The problem was, as soon as vacation started, I came down with the Cold From Hell. The teachers' curse. I'm not usually a believer in weather-induced sickness; I believe fresh air, regardless of the temperature or precipitation, is healthier than being stuck indoors with central air blowing all those germs around. But the symptoms started the Monday after the Snoozeville/Shamrock soakings, and by Friday before break it was clear I was losing the battle. Still, I had blocked out Wednesday for a solo scenic highway jaunt, and I really wanted to see how River handled and check out that new tunnel. Of course Wednesday dawned cold and wet. T suggested I stay home, or at least cut back my planned ride, and I said that sounded good - I'd just head out to the Sandy river and see how I felt. "Maybe I'll head up to Springdale and turn around there" I think I said. Ha. I doubt she believed me either. Of course, once in the saddle I felt great, the cough disappeared, and there was no way I was turning back early. Still lacking a handlebar bag/saddlebag, I decided to take a small backpack w/bladder. I also thought I'd try Kent's plastic-bag-between-the-socks idea since I really like my sandals. Verdict? The bike handled really well. Much less twitchy, more comfy and upright, no shimmy riding with no hands (handlebars more forward?), and the saddle was as comfy as I could expect for one new (to me). My hands and feet got cold, especially on the descent from Crown Point to Multnomah Falls, but I finally took off the full-finger cycling gloves and put on the rag wool ones, and my hands were warm the rest of the day. My feet eventually warmed up too - and stayed dry. The experiment was mostly successful, though 65 miles with a pack convinced me I didn't really want to do that for the Birkie. And the tunnel is nice - If you want to see it, get there soon while it still smells like fresh-milled cedar. Another plus to doing this ride on a wet and cold Wednesday was I had the whole highway to myself. I took the lane basically from the Womens' Forum Park to the tunnel and back, with almost no traffic. Including Marine drive and the Sandy river I saw one other bike all day, and that was in Gresham on my way home.

In the new tunnel

alone, sheltered from the rain

watching waterfalls

The next day T and I had our long planned and highly anticipated bike date to LRBC. I follow their blog, but it's a long way from Montavilla to St. Johns, and not really on the way to anywhere we go together, so we had never actually been there. I decided to ride the Poprad this time and see how it felt. I was still a little saddle-sore from the day before, but the Rocket saddle felt better the longer I rode. Strangely, I noticed that even though I only switched from a

100cm to a 90cm stem, I went from feeling too stretched out to feeling kind of scrunched. Hmm. (It wasn't until I got home and checked that I realized the carbonium seatpost I swapped out had a setback clamp. Ah-ha. So back went the orignal stem and it felt like I'd found the sweet spot.) The breakfast was splendid and the lattes spot-on. T and I have talked about opening our own breakfast/lunch/bakery place someday, and LRBC is definitely inspiration - it's really a beautiful little oasis of yumminess.

However, by Friday I was still obsessing over which bike to ride. Really, what it came down to was what I said about seeing the whole intro to randonneuring thing as a big fun experiment. In the end I decided that since I rode the Poprad in Snoozeville, it was River's turn. A year or so ago I exchanged a couple of emails with Joel Metz, asking all sorts of newby questions about bike style, components, geometry, blah blah blah. What he said, in essence, was "ride the bike you've got and go from there." It was good advice. The only thing I did different from the gorge ride was take a pannier instead of a backpack. I was a little worried I'd get some shimmy, since on my commute this arrangement can induce some tail-wagging-the-dog wobbling, but the new bar/stem must have cured it since I was able to ride no-hands with no-problem.

So - the brevet. I showed up not so early as last time, driving this time because I really couldn't think of another way to get there in time. I'll admit there was a moment in the blustery rain near Hillsboro when I was thinking "Do I really want to do another crappy weather ride?" and I almost turned the car around. I'm glad I didn't, and it was heartening to see so many folks in the lot who looked and sounded like they could think of no better way to spend a Saturday than riding all day in Oregon's coast range in the rain. We pulled out of Forest Grove just at dawn, and once we hit SR 6 I fell in with a group of 5 that included Pat from Seattle, Ian (?) from Olympia, Mike Johnson, and a couple others. Seemed like there was quite a contingent from the Puget Sound area on this ride. Though we lost contact for long stretches, these were the same guys I ended up finishing with; Mike and I rode and chatted together from the Glenwood control to the finish, and I ended up saving him from a long train ride home. I suppose If I have to drive, it helps to know I can give someone else a ride as well.

Rolling through Timber

like a flock of steel birds

one dog barks hello

Just about all this country was new to me. I'm a native Oregonian, but I honestly don't think I've ever been to Vernonia before. The closest I ever came, I think, was a couple years ago when a friend and I were returning from the Astoria 'cross race and we tried to come back that way, but were turned around by a wreck. Despite the constant rain, it really was a beautiful ride - it makes me want to come back on a sunny day sometime. Some observations: The guys I was with coming into the first control at Anderson Park wasted no time. I was munching cookies when Susan asked me if I wanted some coffee and I said "sure." When I turned around, those guys were all gone. Later, approaching the Birkenfield control/turnaround, I kept expecting to see them going the other way, but I only counted 5 riders - the lead pack of 4, followed 5 minutes later by a 'bent rider - before I got to the control. And there they all were, gathered around the tables, feet up, scarfing onion rings. I had plenty of time for another coffee and some fig bars, but I made sure I wasn't the last one left when they pulled out this time.

I hadn't noticed a tailwind coming into Birkenfield, so the headwind when I pointed back up the Nehalem river was a little disheartening. I did notice the sun trying to come out a couple times, But I don't believe it ever actually stopped raining. The climb up to and past the town of Timber seemed to pass pretty quick - I felt like I got a little charge when the mileage turned past the century mark. The last few miles back into Forest Grove Mike and I got nailed by a pretty good cloudburst/headwind, but still seemed to be making decent time. I think our check-in time was just shy of 4:30, and since I was optimistically hoping for 5:00, I was happy with that. we chatted and munched for a few minutes and hit the road for home.

What worked for me: I love the Noodle bars. In combo with the Technomic stem they just felt right and I could move around with them, sit up, whatever. The Brooks saddle was also surprisingly comfortable and I'll stick with it. I remembered the rag wool gloves this time and they made all the difference for keeping my hands warm. I actually started with polypro liners under regular short leather-palmed cycling gloves and changed out at the first control, noticing an immediate improvement. I also have a new appreciation for my trusty Burley jacket. I'm definitely lusting for the rando uniform, but my torso stayed pretty dry, and what little water did get in was wicked by the wool anyway. I decided to leave the wool Swobo knickers at home since I had some - how to say this? - chafing of a delicate nature on the Snoozeville ride. I went with my regular cycling shorts under Hind Drylete tights and I was golden. I also smeared chamois and self liberally with bag balm. I know some folks have issues with bag balm, and this was my first time using it for cycling. But I grew up on a farm milking cows, so for me, it's got a kind of nostalgic appeal. And I can't be sure, but I think the cows along the route knew and were smiling. And there was no chafing this time.

What didn't work: My feet got wet. It rained at least as hard on the gorge ride and they stayed dry. The only difference? For the Birkie I used thin produce bags between socks, but on the gorge ride I used plastic grocery bags. Maybe the longer ride just wore them out, or maybe they leaked from the top? But here's the really dumb thing. I have waterproof sealskinz socks, but I wanted to try the low-tech route - you know, as part of the experiment. I know, dumb, right? It gets better. I actually hauled the Sealskinz in my pannier for the entire ride without knowing I had them in there. Sheesh.

I also carried too much other stuff, most of it food. I had spare socks and a Marmot driclime windshirt that I never used, but they weighed next to nothing. I only carried one water bottle and that was fine since there was plenty of opportunity to refill. But seeing the onion rings in Birkenfield was a lesson in the art of refueling. I actually pulled out some food in the parking lot before starting, but here's what I carried and what I actually ate. In my jersey pockets I had 6 jumbo-sized whole wheat fig bars, a banana, and a flask of raspberry Hammer gel. I also had a couple dozen cats in my jacket pocket that I was popping like, well, candy. In the pannier I carried 1 Bagel w/peanut butter and homemade huckleberry jam (I don't know why, but I think huckleberries have near-mystical biking and hiking powers), about a pint of gorp, 3 Gorge Delight fruit bars, 1 Clif Bar, and 1 Builder bar. When I was done I still had 3 fig bars, most of the gorp, over half the Hammer Gel, 2 of the fruit bars, the Clif bar and the Builder bar, and all I bought along the way was coffee. I figure I had enough food for a full weekend campaign if my legs could have held out that long. Realistically, I could have stuffed everything I needed in my pockets and left the pannier behind.

What I really want for the future, though, is better weather. One thing I'm learning is that these randonneur folks are a social bunch, and I need more of that in my cycling life. I did some chatting, but I suspect that a lot of us were kind of huddled against the elements and in survival mode. Actually, I would have been fine and probably felt even better afterwards if I had done the ride slower, talked more, and stopped totake some pictures, but the weather on this day just wasn't conducive to that kind of ride.

Now the thought of 300K actually seems within the realm of possibility, especially if it's not raining and I can find some good onion rings. We'll see. One thing's for certain, I'm no longer a rando wannabe.

Simply Revolutionary

2009-03-26T22:12:00.000-07:00

"The idea is that a child can sit in the middle of the street and play with a doll and the parents are not going to worry about them."

This quote is from Jeff Mapes newly published Pedaling Revolution, which I just finished. The book is a thoroughly researched look at bicycles and city transportation planning. Mr. Mapes takes an in-depth look at four cities in particular; Amsterdam, Davis CA, Portland, and New York, and shows how an emphasis on seeing the bicycle as a vital solution to congestion, pollution, and health issues can lead to the transformation of urban areas into places that are safer and more livable.

I read a library copy, but it's one of those books that I know I'll want to refer to a lot, so I'll be buying my own copy soon - it's on sale at Powells right now for 13.96.

The overall emphasis is on how these changes make sense and are relatively easy and inexpensive to implement (compared to building infrastructure for autos). The problem, of course, is developing enough critical mass to get the political wheels moving in that direction. Places like Portland, San Francisco, Seattle and Boulder have it, but most cities don't. The key is to show these cities how to get there. I realize that most folks who take the time to read this book are going to be like me - people already sold on the idea that the bike is viable primary tansportation, so in that sense the author is preaching to the choir. My big question is how to get the book in the hands of transportation wonks and activist who want solutions but aren't necessarily focused on cycling as part of the answer.

I found the last three chapters the most memorable, where Mr. Mapes addressed issues of safety, health, and the critical need to get kids back on bikes. I've never really thought about the drop in child riders from the peak days of the 1960's to where we are currently. But as the author says, if people don't develop the habit of exercise when they are most capable, there's little likelihood they will pick it up later in life.

What really sticks with me is the sacrifice, both in lives and general health, that we as a culture have been willing to make in order to maintain our "right" to drive our cars whenever, wherever, and however we want. Here are some numbers from the book:

- The chance that an American will die from a car crash is one-in-fifty. Some data suggest it may be more like one-in-sixty or seventy. But still... As one expert pointed out, our standard for drinking water quality is a one-in-1 million chance that something in the water could cause cancer.

- U.S. car crashes kill the equivalent of two jumbo jetliners full of people every week.

- The U.S. has the highest auto death rate of any developed country in the world.

- We spend more on dental research than we do on traffic safety research.

- Moving to the suburbs (which many families do to escape the "dangers" of the city) significantly increases the likelihood you or your children will be killed by a car crash.

On the subject of overall health, the book had these statistics:

- In 1991, only 4 states had obesity rates over 15%. By 2007 the national rate of obesity was 34%, and only Colorado was under 20%.

- Obesity-related illnesses account for 12% of the increase in health care cost during that time.

- 40% of early deaths can be directly linked to smoking, diet, exercise, alcohol, or car crashes.

- In 1969, 87% of children who lived within one mile of school got there under their own power. in 2001, that number was 15%.

- Half of the children who are hit by cars in a school zone are struck by a motorist transporting a child to school. In many areas, 20% of the morning rush hour traffic consists of parents driving their children to school.

As the book makes clear, if safety and health were really the national priorities some people claim, we would make it much more difficult for people to drive. For years we have tacitly accepted the annual violent roadway deaths of thousands of our own citizens as the blood price we're willing to pay to drive. My guess is most people, if they think about it at all, believe these deaths are inevitable, or worse, somehow worth the "freedom" to drive. But most of these deaths are preventable when one considers that half of all trips by car are less than 5 miles in length. It's not reasonable to expect that all these trips could be by bike. But as Mr. Mapes points out, we know how to create infrastructure and policies that make it easier and safer to bike, and less convenient to get behind the wheel. Unfortunately, tackling the assumptions built by our car-centric culture makes this an uphill battle. I hope this book helps move the discussion in the right direction.

Snoozeville-Shamrock Rain Festival

2009-03-16T13:00:00.000-07:00

Heavy clouds let loose

halfway through too numb to shift

welcome to Snoozeville

Part 1

When I first heard about randonneuring and the whole idea of long, non-competitive, self-supported rides, I knew I had to try it. Long rides are like meditation for me. With randonneuring I could spend the day on a bike and see a lot of country, but I'd also get the social aspect of joining others if I wanted. Plus, a "rando," while not a race, is still a timed event, with the rider required to check in at designated "controls" and finish the ride within a specified timeframe. Theoretically, a rando rider could amble along at a very leisurely 15km/hr and still make the cut. But that's assuming no breaks, detours (accidental or intentional), flats, mechanical issues, muffins, naps, or picture taking. Route finding and problem solving are as important as endurance, which makes it even more appealing to me. And on Saturday I finally got my randonneuring fix.

The Snoozeville Populaire is the first event on the Oregon Randonneurs schedule and it's been on my calendar for months. Even though I've ridden a couple centuries, I was still nervous. Since I was determined not to drive, that meant a 4:30 A.M. wake-up to allow time for dressing, oats, stuffing the pockets and catching MAX at 6 for an hour-long train ride to Hillsboro. It also meant standing around the parking lot getting chilled once I got there. First lesson: it doesn't take 45 minutes to get checked in. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, but I met a couple people, admired a lot of bikes, and after a brief pre-ride pep talk, we all headed out at 8 just as the rain started.

The route toured Washington county toward the east slope of the coast range. It felt fairly flat, especially compared with my ride last week. By the time we hit Dairy Creek for the out and back to Fern Flat and the first control, we were pretty spread out and I was finally warmed up. Being the total rando newbie I am, I didn't really know what I was supposed to do with the brevet card I was given. I mean, I knew there were questions to answer, and I knew that sometimes there would be volunteers at the control and sometimes not, but no one really explained how this all worked, and I was kind of embarrassed to ask (guy thing). So at Fern Flat - my first rando control point ever - I kind of flubbed it. I handed my card over and the volunteer signed it as I munched and chatted, then I tucked it away and headed back down the road. It wasn't until about 5 miles later that I looked at my cue sheet and realized that I was also supposed to answer a question about the color of the flags on the fence at the control. Dang! I figured that since the card had been signed I was probably OK, but the thought crossed my mind of conspiring at the next control to see if I could nochalantly bring up flag colors in the conversation and sneak my answer in late. One thing for sure, I knew I wasn't riding back to the control.

The ride from Dairy Creek through Banks and into Forest Grove was kind of rolling and really, really wet and windy. It felt like no matter which way the course turned, I had a headwind. Other than a spare pair of socks in my pocket, I was wearing everything I brought. The Swobo top and knickers were working fine, but my old thrashed Burley shoe covers had been taking on water steadily, and my hands were also wet and chilled. At one point I hit a roller and tried to shift to my small front ring and was surprised to find I didn't have the hand strength to nudge the left lever. I figured this ride would be a shakedown for hopefully longer rides and I got sucked in to making a couple miscalculations based on the fact it wasn't raining when I got up and the forecast was for a high of 50. Honestly, based on my normal 10 mile commute, I was more worried about overheating and having to strip layers than I was on being so chilled. Second lesson learned: bringing layers you don't use beats first stage hypothermia every time. My rag wool gloves and waterproof socks weren't doing me any good in the closet at home. And a bag for extra stuff just moved higher up the wish list.

Pulling into Forest Grove, I was really glad Gregg was maning the control at Maggie's Buns. The cue sheet said "on the left," but I didn't realize it was on the left around the corner, and if Gregg hadn't shouted out, who knows when I would have figured it out. My hands were stiff enough I almost asked him to unzip my pocket to pull out my card - my manual dexterity was shot. As it was, it took me about 5 minutes with teeth and numb fingers to get my gloves off. I spent a couple minutes in the bathroom with the hot water tap, a couple more with the Most Necessary Cup of Coffee ever, and hit the road.

That had to be the most revitalizing coffee break I've ever had. The last 15 miles flew by, partly because I knew it was the last 15 miles and I pushed myself hard enough I actually warmed up. But I also realize that had this been a 200K brevet, I would need to do things differently to keep from having to abandon the ride. Cruising along Evergreen on the last 5 miles, I was anticipating the coldest part of the day still to come; an hour-long cool-down on MAX in wet clothes. I was glad I didn't drive, but admitted to myself it sure would have been nice to have a dry change of clothes and a beer at the finish. Ah well. The train wasn't as bad as I feared and my knickers were bone-dry when I got home. I love wool.

Conclusions after rando # 1: I'm still not happy with the way my bike feels on these longer rides. I suspect the stem is too long, and maybe I still don't have a saddle that's going to go the distance. My lower back got sore early and while short breaks off the bike made all the difference, I'd prefer it if it didn't happen at all. I imagine the cold and tense shoulders contributed as well. I'm curious how River would have handled the ride? It's probably a less stiff bike, but I was nervous (justifiably it turns out) about riding without a computer, and the 27-inch tires on it are maybe less than ideal. Maybe I'll pick up one of these this week. And like I said, some kind of bag is going to be needed. I didn't even bring a camera (Partly because of the forecast - thanks John and Gregg for the photos!)

I don't feel like I've earned the right to call myself a "randonneur" yet. Somehow, the 100k distance feels more like a rando with training wheels. I really want to ride the Birkie Brevet, and if I finish that, I'll feel like the training wheels came off. For now, I'm still a wanna-be.

Part 2

I was hoping that the clouds would have wrung themselves dry in time for the second act of my mini-epic weekend, but there was no such luck. Shamrock Run morning dawned with more cold, wet, and wind. For me it meant more oats, more layers, and more MAX, and I joined a considerably larger group than Saturday's where, once again, I got to stand around getting cold while waiting for the 15K run to begin. If I had been sensible, I would have signed up for a shorter distance, but that would have felt like cat-ing down, and since the registration fee was the same, I figured I might as well get my money's worth. Plus, I've got a thing for running up Terwilliger, and in Sunday's rain and headwind, the climb turned out to be the full-meal-deal. Once we got started I warmed up pretty quick and the run was surprisingly comfortable. I didn't notice any fatigue from Saturday, and hammered it pretty hard the last two miles. Once I crossed the line I didn't have any desire to hang around in the rain for the complimentary beer and chowder, so I handed my tickets to someone heading into the beer garden and boarded the #15. I made it to PMC in time to grab some dry clothes I had stashed in our car and was dressed and dry in time to join my family for the service and potluck after, where I loaded both my dinner and my dessert plates and did more than my part in draining the coffee pot. A good weekend.

Weather With You

2009-03-09T20:57:00.000-07:00

Cue Theme Song:

This winter is refusing to go down without a fight. Saturday I had a splendid long solo ride. Upper 30's/low 40's, a few miles of cold rain, some sun, very light traffic and almost no other riders for 60 miles. Sunday I was pulling weeds in the garden getting ready for planting the first seeds. Crocuses are up, forsythia and daffodils just ready to bloom. saw my first cherry blossoms along the Clackamas river on my ride Saturday.

Then this morning as I neared the end of my commute the snow started coming down in Gresham and continued off and on throughout the day. No accumulation, but it drew plenty of complaining from colleagues and on the blogs. I liked it, I like riding in it, and I said so. But coming home into a headwind I got smacked by a sleet storm that left me huddled over my bars, head down to keep from exposing my face to the stinging barrage. Brutal.

Again, I got a couple of baiku out of it.

Riding through fresh snow
steaming under a bright sky
winter won't let go

Sleet and a headwind
ahead I can see blue sky
here it's still winter

To the Races?

2009-03-05T15:20:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking about whether or not to do any road racing this year. I should explain that I'm not a road racer. I'm really not much of any kind of racer, getting into the game far too late in life to be serious about any of it. But I've had a couple fun seasons in the Master B cross races, and had almost as much fun in a few short track mountain bike races last summer. I also did a handful (as in 5) of road races last year. As a 48-year old cat-5 rider, maybe I'm using "race" rather loosely. We were all breathing hard and trying to get to the front or avoid being dropped, and I pretty much held my mid-pack own while avoiding crashing or taking anyone else out. But the kind of tactics and form and teamwork practiced by guys who are "real" racers were in pretty short supply in the cat 5's.

My first road race was the Piece of Cake race in Woodland WA. I remember two things about this race. One was how, despite the sprint at the finish - where I finished somewhere near the rear of the main pack - I felt fresher than I ever remember feeling after riding 30+ miles. The second was how frustrating it was to want to move up, to feel like I had the legs to move up, but to be boxed in for miles and unable to find the room - or maybe the nerve? - to squeeze forward. I finished in the same place I was stuck in for over half the race. I also learned my sprint sucks.

My next 4 road races were really more like crits, without the tight corners or crashes. The Mount Tabor series was where I first learned you really can fall over from exhaustion and after a hard race you really do taste blood. But the 400+ feet of climbing/descending per 1.3 mile loop tends to string the pack out quickly, so there's not much blocking and it's hard for anyone to control the pace in a race lasting only 40 minutes. Which is not to say it was fun, exactly, but there was a kind of satisfaction for me in seeing how long I could stay in before getting dropped.

In OBRA, the rules for moving up from cat 5 to 4 are pretty simple: 10 mass-start races (time trials don't count). I'm half-way there regardless of how I place. And I really can't imagine getting beyond Cat 4. The 3's scare me - testosterone seems to be at least as important as talent in their races, and smiles are rare but fiery crashes common.

But cat-ing up seems like a dumb reason to race. I mean, I'm all about goals and everything, but if I'm not really having fun, and I'm not making the world a better place, what's the point? That's where I'm at. Here's some reasons why I may not road race.

1 - Money. It cost $20-$30 per race. On my self-imposed allowance, that's 1/4 or more of my spending money for the month. A couple races could get me one of these. And it's not like I can't just go out and ride for free anyway. I'm not winning anything - which was never the point anyway. And if I do race I'm on my cross bike (with disc brakes) which gets some funny looks, though others have made it work. But a dedicated road race bike is more money than I can even think about spending right now, even if I build up some old steel frame from scrounged parts.

2 - Crashing. It happens, often and quickly. I've passed guys lying under a bike or cradling a broken clavicle. Six weeks in a sling unable to put weight on my arm would suck, and seriously mess up my commute and family life. My rib injury from practicing in the dirt this last fall was enough for me this year. I heal well, but I'm not young and rubbery any more either.

3 - Desire. Road racing is kind of weird. Hanging out in a pack for an hour for the opportunity to sprint 200 yards. Compared to mtb and cross races, roadies are a grim lot. I like the idea of the culture, like I like the idea of being in U2, but I suspect it doesn't fit me very well. I'm serious enough sitting in a chair all alone. I need leisure activities that relax my shoulders, and road racing doesn't do that.

But on the other shoulder, this voice whispers:

1 - Teamwork. Road racing is a team sport. Being a domestique, helping place a teammate with fresh legs in the sprint, is part of the craft and worth learning. Maybe I have something to contribute. And there's no denying the fluid beauty of a well-oiled paceline. Only roadies get it.

2 - Sport. I am competitive. I don't celebrate it, and in fact it's a bit embarassing, but if I'm honest with myself I realize it just IS. I look at my race placement. I take it seriously and I analyze every race to figure out what went right and, more often, where I can improve. This could be seen as a negative as well. My wife sees it that way. But I have to admit I'm goal oriented and that's part of the appeal.

Right now, I'm leaning pretty strongly away from the fast and furious and more toward long and slow.

Nailed

2009-03-04T19:16:00.000-08:00

Riding toward a sky
colored like an old black eye
looking for revenge

Shine

2009-03-03T12:00:00.000-08:00

After the night storm

morning sun on rain-swept streets

below mountain snow

Wind 101

2009-03-02T19:47:00.000-08:00

March first on skyline
two echelons are learning
in the school of wind

Merlyn's Advice

2009-02-25T08:40:00.000-08:00

I'm rereading one of my favorite books, The Once and Future King by T.H. White, out loud to my son as a bedtime story. One of the joys about books good enough to reread is the discovery of what seems both fresh and familiar.

In this passage The Wart - who will become King Arthur - has learned that his childhood companion Kay will soon be knighted while he, because of his uncertain parentage, will not. Instead, he is to be Kay's squire. What upsets The Wart is not that he won't be Kay's equal, or that he won't get to joust and fight and do all those knightly things, but that Kay, in preparation for this new life, has distanced himself from Wart and left him all alone. Mourning this loss of childhood joy and companionship, he turns to his wise tutor, Merlyn

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlyn, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That is the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honor trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then - to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be threatened by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the thing for you."

T.H. White

The Once and Future King

Three Good Days

2009-02-18T20:23:00.000-08:00

I needed this three-day weekend. Feeling stretched thin and dog-tired. Fighting the bug that laid my poor girls out for a week. Dug out a couple ancient rhododendron stumps out to make room for fruit trees. Flowers are nice, but I want to grow something I can eat; we're thinking maybe a fig and an Asian pear? I also went for a long run, and joined a team mate for a couple hours on a mountain bike in the mud of Forest Park. It felt good to do some riding that was out of my usual element. I'm still too tentative on downhills, but the practice was good and he was patient with me.

I've recently found myself uninspired by my bike commute. Normally, this time is precious to me, when I clear my head, fill my lungs, and get tuned into the weather of the day, or coming home when I unwind from a day spent with hormonal and awkward adolescents. Maybe it's the Coho, which seems worse this winter. Or maybe the cold rain we had last week, or the weeks or riding both ways in the dark, shoulders tensed by traffic and icy patches. Even my bike seemed weary, groaning and creaking pitifully. I suspected some drivetrain malady and took it in for a diagnosis. "Your chain is beyond stretched." was the verdict. So another thing I did this weekend was some bike doctoring. I installed a new chain, recycled a pretty decent Shimano 600 6-speed freewheel. overhauled the hubs, and replaced the cables, housing, and brake pads. Now it rides like a new bike, but cheaper. And the past two days have been glorious; clear and windless, frosty in the morning, and just a hint that any day now the sun will crest the horizon before I get to work. My bike is purring happily as well.

As I pulled around the back of the building this morning, looking down at the football field I saw this:

Daybreak, gulls face east

gilded by the sun's first flame

in a frost-bound field

I also got out for a Valentine's day date with T for brunch at the Country Cat, and our own little economic stimulus pilgrimage. Now I know I've recently been preaching the virtues of saving and I'm not backing away from that. Indeed, part of me wants to see the economy tank even further in the belief that, like an alcoholic who has to hit bottom before he can begin recovery, our economy is not yet at a place where those in charge will acknowledge the folly of a system dependent on consumer debt. However, the government cut us a check last week. Or rather, returned the part of our taxes owed back to us, and we spent part of it on a new camera. The old Canon died on us just before Christmas, and T has been talking for over two years about getting a "real" camera that takes better pictures than the dinky point & shoot we've relied on. I think we made a good decision.

It's been a revelation how much we've been missing. Colors are vivid and skin looks alive, not pasty or washed out, and we can capture motion instead of complaining about blur. With three kids who are growing up too quickly, it's a purchase I don't feel guilty about making. It helped that we were able to get a good deal from a local company instead of going the online or big-box route. I'm trying to keep my money close to home, even if a bunch of it eventually goes to a Chinese camera factory.

I also tried to get one of these so I could make one of these. Almost pulled the trigger because I thought I had a big team discount at River City, but it turns out the discount I hoped for didn't apply to "bikes and frames" which the xtracycle apparently is - because you attach a wheel to it. And feeling cheap and stubborn, I balked at the lesser discount they offered. I'm regretting it, a little, but we're getting closer to the transformation from THIS

To THIS

Finally, as February wears on, the allowance envelope was getting thin. I was down to my last $14 and was unsure if it would be enough for the new M Ward which was released Tuesday. So that night, after washing up the dinner dishes I did what any desperate music fan would do - scrounged up some cans and headed to Safeway. 4 dollars richer I figured I could swing the purchase and skip the lattes until the end of the month. Even better, MM had it on sale, (My 30+ year love affair with Music Millennium, and my regrets for straying in search of better prices at Best Buy/Target/Amazon I'll save for another post) so I took a look through the used bin and found this. T and I had just been talking about Tapestry at dinner - how it's one of those seminal albums that I never actually owned, probably because in my younger days I just wasn't into "chick" music. Now that I have a wife and 2 daughters who are big fans of the Gilmore Girls, and I listen to the lyrics more than I used to, so I've developed an appreciation for some music that I used to ridicule. Rumours by Fleetwood Mac is another example - I can remember in high school how much the music nerds I hung out with hated them (though I'll bet more than one had a Stevie Nicks poster in his bedroom.) Now I see Rumours for the masterpiece it is, and though I still don't much care for Stevie Nicks, I have to admit that "Dreams" is a pretty decent piece of writing for a 28-year old heartbroken coke-head. And Lindsey Buckingham was - and is - a genius.

Thawing

2009-02-09T10:26:00.000-08:00

I couldn't decide, so here's two versions:

Riding in the dark

no sign of the sunrise yet

a bird is singing

Lone bird in the dark

sings from bare tree as I pass

he knows what I know

Durability

2009-02-07T20:33:00.000-08:00

I realized after the last post that I hadn't really finished at a place I was satisfied with. I was trying to say that I'm both frustrated with tired and backwards thinking regarding consumerism, and hopeful that a sea change is occurring in how we move forward. It seems like common sense to me that the foundation of our suddenly collapsing economy was built on sand. Steady growth fed by credit and consumerism worked for 50 years, but was not sustainable indefinitely. In Deep Economy, Bill McKibben explains why when he points out that economic growth is bumping up against its limits because of climate change and peak oil (which supplies both the main ingredient as well as the chief source of power in most manufacturing.) He points out three central challenges to the belief that the economy must continue to expand in order to remain healthy.

First, there's now plenty of data to show that - despite what business leaders and official say - growth is producing more inequality than prosperity. A very few have been getting very wealthy, while the majority have seen their incomes fall (when adjusted for inflation.)

Second, the energy resources simply don't exist to support the current rates of growth.

Third, growth and "prosperity" is not making us happier. To the contrary, nearly every study measuring general life satisfaction shows otherwise.

So if the growth model is broken, what are we left with?

I'm with McKibben in believing that what we want and need is community. That word is vague enough that there's a danger of it sounding Utopian. What I mean is that we must learn to see buying and spending as the relationship commitments they are. All spending is a kind of investment. If I buy a meal at McDonalds, I have made a small investment in that company; I have cast a vote in support of how they raise and slaughter meat, prepare the meal, take care of their employees, and dispose of their waste - all of it. Of course, If I choose instead to spend my money at The Country Cat, the meal will almost certainly cost me more money. But I will have invested in a local business that I know prepares meals from animals and crops raised locally and sustainably. I can be confident my money is an investment in the livelihood of people I know who are part of my local community and who are making a living wage. As McKibben says, this type of spending will yield less stuff but richer relationships. He calls this "The Durable Future."

What do you think? I'm really curious to hear how the current economy is affecting people, and how others are dealing with the tension between cutting back and trying to support local businesses.

Joe Henry

2009-02-06T21:54:00.000-08:00

You know how certain albums become the soundtrack for periods your life? I just automatically assume this is true for everyone, but when I talk to others about it, I realize that not everyone sets their life to music. I can return to certain albums like Led Zeppelin III (you know, the "acoustic" Zep album?), Bob Dylan's Desire, Inner City Front by Cockburn, or U2's October and each will transport me back to a specific time in my life when it was the soundtrack. This is even true for Out of the Blue, by ELO, which I can't listen to without thinking of the summer of '78 and working at Old Faithful. I remember the deadheads in the kitchen threatened murder every time I put it on. I still like ELO, and I still don't much like the Grateful Dead.

Recently I've been listening to this:

This is poetry, which I suppose could technically be said of all music. So, since this is my blog, I'll claim I think this is good poetry. Really good. Joe Henry's music is evocative of Tom waits without the gravel. I also hear echoes of Randy Newman. In his haunting remake of "When you wish upon a Star" from the children's compilation Mary Had a Little Amp I'm reminded of the much-missed (by me) Harry Nilsson. In places he reminds me of beat poetry, maybe because of the obvious jazz influences. The song "Parker's Mood" is in tribute to Charlie Parker, and Ornette Coleman plays on his earlier tunes "Scar" and "Richard Pryor Addresses a Tearful Nation" (which is as phenomenal a song as the title suggests.) Here's a sampling of lyrics from Civilians:

The carriage horses stamp and fume

Until all color's gone,
They leave the street in black and white
And bring the evening coming on.
Lovers tug their way out of gloves
Out of shoes, and gray chiffon,
The driver pulls his blanket high
And pretends to look beyond.

Oh, pray for you, pray for me.
Sing it like a song -
Life is short but, by the grace of God,
This night is long

from "Civilians"

or this:

lovers laugh and cross this way
weaving out into the street
it seems we never were so young
or it was never quite so sweet
but the world is always beautiful
when its seen in full retreat
the worst of life looks beautiful
as it slips away in full retreat

from "God Only Knows"

The centerpiece of the album is the tune "Our Song," in which the narrator says

I saw Willie Mays

At a Scottsdale Home Depot
Looking at Garage Door Springs
At the far end of the 14th row
His wife stood there beside him
She was quiet and they both were proud

I gave them room but was close enough
That I heard him when he said out loud

This was my country
This was my song
Somewhere in the middle there
Though it started badly and it's ending wrong

This was my country
This frightful and this angry land
But it's my right if the worst of it might
Still somehow make me a better man

The song is a beautiful meditation on what is right and wrong about our time. I have added it to my playlist, which you can listen to in the sidebar. I'd like to know what you think.

As I did a little poking around, I discovered some interesting Joe Henry trivia. He's a highly respected producer of some albums I really like, like Aimee Mann's The Forgotten Arm, the Elvis Costello/Allen Toussaint collaboration The River in Reverse, and the multi-artist soul & gospel album I Believe to my Soul. He knew the famous killer Jeffrey Dahmler in junior high. He went to high school with Madonna and has been married to her younger sister, Melanie, since 1987. Madonna has recorded a couple of his songs, and the two performed the number "Guilty by Association" for Sweet Relief II. Joe Henry sounds nothing like Madonna.

Another Thing I Don't Understand

2009-02-04T11:22:00.000-08:00

I read this morning that the senate thinks Americans should get a tax break for buying a new car. This is part of the "bipartisan" agreement on the ever-evolving economic stimulus plan. Republicans have been insisting that in order for them to sign on to a plan that includes all kinds of spending for infrastructure and job creation, they want to see the plan include more tax cuts. I'm having difficulty seeing the logic of cutting taxes as part of a package that is, in essence, a enormous tax bill. Keep in mind, this is a bill that we, and our children, and probably our grandchildren, will be expected to pay - the 900 billion dollars (last count) has to come from somewhere. So the senate has decided to kill two birds with one stone. By giving Americans a tax deduction for sales tax and interest on a new car, they can "help" consumers and aid the auto industry.

I truly am sympathetic to the plight of auto workers being laid off. These are hard working folks who were fortunate enough to have decent living-wage jobs and most have families to support. The last thing I would wish on anyone doing an honest day's work is for them to lose their job. The trouble is, the companies they work for put quarterly profits ahead of long-term viability and backed themselves (and their workers) into a corner by producing vehicles that no one wants to buy. They knew this was coming, but apparently the "big 3" were watching each other and waiting for the other guy to blink. They kept on producing inefficient and wasteful vehicles when they should have been investing in the tooling and technology that would create vehicles that made sense. I know I'm over-simplifying, but apparently the best solution our lawmakers can come up with is to throw some money at them and dangle some carrots that will get "consumer[s] into the showroom" so they can unload some more of those SUV's and "stimulate the economy."

This kind of says it all:

This is one consumer who won't be visiting the showroom. I'm saving for a bike. A locally made one.

I did find it encouraging to hear Obama come out swinging in response to the Republicans insistence that tax cuts produce wealth (ala "trickle-down economics") when he flatly stated he rejected that theory, as did the American people when they cast their ballots in November. Exactly. For what it's worth, both of Oregon's senators were in the minority when they voted against the auto tax break. Thank you Senators Wyden and Merkeley.

And is anyone else annoyed when government spokespeople refer to the rest of us as "consumers," like our primary responsibility as patriotic Americans is to "consume?" You don't hear the word "citizens" nearly as much these days, do you? And it seems we're "fellow Americans" only when someone wants something from us, like our vote.

On a closely related note, I was listening to Marketplace this week and the commentator was talking about the "danger" of thrift becoming a habit. Apparently, saving money is a good thing. But when everybody cuts back and starts saving, that's bad. It becomes a habit because people who stop buying stuff realize the stuff they were buying was unnecessary and pretty soon lots of people figure out they can survive just fine without all that cheap plastic crap from Walmart. As a matter of fact, many find their lives becoming richer in ways they hadn't imagined. The next thing you know they're planting gardens, raising chickens, making meals from scratch, blogging about shopping locally and sustainability, and choosing to ride bikes instead of drive. It starts looking like an anti-consumption revolution. Fortune magazine (of course) calls this "the trouble with virtue."

At this point I realize I'm bordering on violating the Baiku code - to focus on beauty and keep it simple. So here's where I wanted to go. Our economy - and therefore our culture - are changing in ways the history books would describe as revolutionary. Each of us gets to choose, every day, what that change will look like and how we will personally participate in it. I believe this. My wife and I recently made the choice to set a strict budget for ourselves. This was too long coming, but wasn't done out of desperation or, thankfully, unemployment. I have $100 to spend on myself every month. It's in an envelope. If I want a latte and a scone, a CD, a race registration, or a new saddle for the bike, it comes out of the envelope, and when it's gone, that's it. The point wasn't so much to save as it was to spend more thoughtfully. Instead of whipping out the debit card, my purchases have to be deliberate, and that has made ALL the difference. I believe spending is a form of voting. If I choose to spend my money at the Academy Theater, that's a vote in favor of a local business I think is good for my community. Conversely, if I chose to spend my money at Walmart (I don't), I'd be casting a vote in favor of their business model and labor practices. This kind of spending - and not spending - is empowering. I even kicked my Craigslist bike paraphernalia habit - I haven't visited the site since early December. As my wife said, there's always a good deal; the question is not whether I want it, but whether I need it. I'm slowly learning the difference. I'm also finding this type of thinking is spilling over into other areas of my life, like whether I choose to buy new or used, or what I want to grow & serve & eat, or what I watch & read, and most importantly, how I spend my time. Because like money, time is also finite and can be spent recklessly and thoughtlessly, or with deliberation and care. These lessons are good. It feel like I'm not the only person learning them.

Read. Ride. Repeat.

Saturday Tabor Run

2009-02-02T13:50:00.000-08:00

Climbing through the fog

Until sun shines on rooftops

Riding on the clouds

Technically I guess this should be called a "Raiku" since it came fom running, not biking. It was icy as well - I was trying to run flat-footed to keep from slipping. Passed a group of 4 bikers out for a training ride coming down as I was heading up. "Careful, it's slick as snot up there," said one. All of them were on the brakes and dabbing one unclipped foot. Be careful out there.

Winter Commute

2009-01-30T12:38:00.000-08:00

A final kiss goodbye

A prayer my family sleeps safe

Layered gloved and helmeted

I step into the dark, latch the door mount up and

Ride into the final days of winter

Into the lees of the last snow

Treacherous gravel and wet grime curb to curb

I take the center in the fog until overtaking headlights

force the drift and skate of the shoulder sandbars.

Arrival the postponing of a skirmish

Resuming in the evening through quartering wind

cars hissing rain, following my feeble arc of light

Home, back knotted with work and road rudeness to

Uncoil the hose and flush muck and oily grit

Into the thawing earth.

Above, the slimmest shard of the new moon

rattles in the winter wracked limbs of the old dogwood

curved arms of light

reaching for the nearness

of the one star in the sky.

Read, ride, repeat.

25 tidbits: Face(book)ing the past

2009-01-29T09:06:00.000-08:00

I opened a Facebook account last week. I could blame my wife - she wanted to chat with me while I was at work. But secretly, I wanted to. Being the social stegosaurus that I am ( I was trying to think of the opposite of butterfly), I surprised myself. I'm not so naive that I think my Facebook "friends" are really my friends, though some are, of course. And I've been "friended" by people who seem to know me but who I can't remember. I'm getting old. I finally decided that for me it came down to "Am I even remotely interested in what this person does/wears/listens to/reads/dreams/thinks/eats/etc?" For some, I am. Part of me thinks that the whole thing is kind of weirdly voyeuristic, but on the other hand, it's not spying since you only see (or show) what people choose to post, and while a lot of it may be mundane, some of it is interesting, some is touching, and some even occasionally profound. The weirdest thing - in a kind of Twilight Zone way -has been getting "in touch" with some folks I used to know nearly 30 years ago from Encounter, the college-age group at Easthill Church in Gresham. With the exception of my friend Chris, I lost touch with a lot of people who were, honestly, the center of my life for several years. I bailed for reasons that had to do with age, church intrigue, my faith, and probably some other stuff. In some ways that period of my life has been an embarrassment to me (the naive confidence of my faith, the Jesus pop music, the hair) But like an Eagles reunion (minus the money), the painful past has taken on a rosier glow and I find I'm able to revisit it with fondness. Someone found me, told me there's a Facebook group for us, and now we're "friending" each other all over the country, catching up on jobs and kids and marriages (and divorces) and sharing some really frightening pictures of each other. My wife and kids have been amused and horrified.

I also think it's interesting how Facebook has made "friend" a verb. Does this mean we have no further use of "befriend?'

I got this little activity from a "friend" a couple days ago - a kind of mini-autobiography. I had fun with it. It's all true.

25 things about me
Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

Here's mine:
Velomann...

1 - married very well.
2 - would like my children a lot even if they weren't my children
3 - has 7 nieces and 7 nephews. So far.
4 - had a 1.7 GPA at end of 1st year of college.
5 - once won a bicycle by writing an essay about why I should.
6 - has seen a snow leopard print in the wild.
7 - did not receive a high school diploma.
8 - has never been to a graduation. Including my own.
9 - once had a ponytail. Which I still own.
10 - rode my 1st (and 2nd) century this year.
11 - can use a sewing machine.
12 - has eaten yak and water buffalo.
13 - hates cheese.
14 - has rock climbed in Yosemite.
15 - has made a pot roast from a steer named Bufford.
16 - Rode a Greyhound bus to Michigan. And back.
17 - first "real" job was throwing pizzas (see # 13).
18 - once worked on a mink farm. Part of the job involved sweeping up the feet.
19 - still likes Electric Light Orchestra. Unapologetically.
20 - Used to think John was the greatest Beatle, but is not so sure now.
21 - annually rides more miles by bike than he drives.
22 - has summited Mount Hood at least 25 times.
23 - Worked at Old Faithful Lodge.
24 - was sniffed by a grizzly bear
25 - has not yet vacationed in Italy with his wife, climbed El Capitan, baked a pie, run a marathon, or ridden Paris-Brest-Paris, but plans to someday.

Afterward, I though of some things I could have included.

The Footnotes:

- got my first tattoo this year.

- took 10 years to earn 1st college degree.

- has worked as a chimney sweep.

- has never podiumed

- has 4 chickens

- has broken ribs, fingers, toes, nose, clavicle, and jaw, but never a limb.

- prefers to sleep outside the tent.

Blessing

2009-01-25T21:59:00.000-08:00

While I sleep, snow comes
I wake from dreams of regrets
and ride in white peace

ah! bright wings.

2009-01-22T15:55:00.000-08:00

God's Grandeur

By Gerard Manley Hopkins

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs--
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

This poem has been haunting me lately. Hopkins is considered a 2nd tier British poet. He's called by some a religious poet, and by some a nature poet. I guess if one needs boxes, those fit. He was born Anglican but converted to Catholicism in college, taking orders as a Jesuit. Whether his sometimes bleak personality was a result of this or led to it is, I guess, a chicken-egg argument. He seemed torn by his sense of duty to his religion which - to him - conflicted with the longing of his soul to see and write beauty. I think this poem captures well the sense that the world is God's gift to us, and we have trashed it . And yet... day dawns, "nature is never spent," the Holy Ghost of God "broods" over the world (as in mother hen, I think, though I'm uncomfortable with the image). There is, behind what can be seen, a greater unseen.

I considered, instead of Baiku, calling my blog "ah! bright wings."

Though he suffered from serious depression, and fatally contracted Typhoid fever at age 45, Hopkins' dying words were "I am so happy. So happy."

Two Fools

2009-01-21T17:18:00.000-08:00

The Coho has been crazy the past week. To most people (in cars) it's a minor annoyance - unless it results in this:

The truck had Virginia plates. Nothing says "Welcome to Oregon" like a tree dropped in your pickup bed. Hey, we've already got this guy, these, and our beloved tree-slaying rodent. I say tie it down, stick a "Wide Load" flag on it, and haul it back to Virginia as firewood.

Anyway, since my normal morning commute points me at the mouth of the Columbia gorge for ten miles, I've become somewhat of an east wind aficionado. Most winters we get maybe half a dozen spells of one-to-three days of blow. Wind speed is kind of irrelevant, so I use the Velomann wind scale, where a blow of 1 is mildly annoying and means I get a shorter shower at work, a 5 means, like a sailor in a storm, I could go down in a crosswind, and a 9-10 howler brings flying debris and downed power lines. It's been in the 5 range for several days, with a good 24 hours in the 9's in east county (fortunately that was over the weekend and I didn't have to ride.) I know math is not my strength, but I was calculating that at an average riding speed of 15 MPH into a headwind of 25 MPH, I'd get to work quicker riding backwards.

Occasionally I find myself thinking that if I could ride into the wind like a Zen archer, I could learn to slip between the currents, untouched and tranquil. I'll work on that.

On the plus side, I got this Baiku - I call it "Two Fools"

Crow flies by laughing

at me cursing the east wind

to him it's all play

Obama's "Praise Song"

2009-01-20T11:11:00.000-08:00

I don't know about you, but I find it encouraging that, when Barack Obama took the oath of office and became our 44th president a couple of hours ago, one of the first things we did, as a country, was listen to a poem. The poet is Elizabeth Alexander and I understand she's also a personal friend of the Obamas. I've been searching for the text and here's what I've found. (Update - I edited the formatting after I found out how it was supposed to look.)

Praise Song for the Day
by Elizabeth Alexander

A Poem for Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration Each day we go about our business, walking past each other, catching each other's eyes or not, about to speak or speaking. All about us is noise. All about us is noise and bramble, thorn and din, each one of our ancestors on our tongues. Someone is stitching up a hem, darning a hole in a uniform, patching a tire, repairing the things in need of repair. Someone is trying to make music somewhere, with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum, with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice. A woman and her son wait for the bus. A farmer considers the changing sky. A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin. We encounter each other in words, words spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed, words to consider, reconsider. We cross dirt roads and highways that mark the will of some one and then others, who said I need to see what's on the other side. I know there's something better down the road. We need to find a place where we are safe. We walk into that which we cannot yet see. Say it plain: that many have died for this day. Sing the names of the dead who brought us here, who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges, picked the cotton and the lettuce, built brick by brick the glittering edifices they would then keep clean and work inside of. Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day. Praise song for every hand-lettered sign, the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables. Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself, others by first do no harm or take no more than you need. What if the mightiest word is love? Love beyond marital, filial, national, love that casts a widening pool of light, love with no need to pre-empt grievance. In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air, any thing can be made, any sentence begun. On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp, praise song for walking forward in that light.

It may be worth noting that Bush did not ask a poet to read at either of his inaugurations, nor did his father. In fact, this is only the fourth time a poem has been an official part of the inauguration. For the first, Robert Frost planned to read "Dedication," at John Kennedy's inauguration, but the sun was so bright he couldn't, so instead he recited from memory "The Gift Outright." Maya Angelou read "On The Pulse of Morning" at Bill Clinton's first Inauguration, and Miller Williams read "Of History an d Hope" at his second.

I Like the part about patching tires :) and repairing things in need of repair.

Now if Obama will do this

And this

We're set.

What do you think?

Another way

2009-01-19T10:25:00.000-08:00

Cold wind from the east
I am trying to learn to
slip between the gusts

Baiku #1

2009-01-18T21:57:00.000-08:00

The poet speaks of
the other way of the world
like the bicycle

Welcome to my blog, Baiku (from "bicycle" + "haiku.") There will poetry, bicycles, and other simple pleasures. Tell me what you think.

A good poem is beautiful, at least in part, because of the economy of words. In poetry, less really is More. I believe the bicycle is like that, a pure and distilled way to wander, with purpose (or not.) And if Poetry is language in it's purest form, then I think of the bicycle as a poem on two wheels. For me, both have opened windows to what is beautiful and hopeful and true. Like poetry, I hope what I post conveys a sense of Less is More. I'll strive for short and simple (no easy task for me!)

It won't be all poetry and bikes, but they will be the threads which weave through the fabric of this site, and I hope the deliberate simplicity and surprising joy of each will infuse all I write.

I know the web - and the world - contains more then enough ego, advice, whining, thoughtlessness, profanity, and general blather. it's wearying and diminishes all who speak it and all who listen. I want to be different.
I want to celebrate people who take care.
I want to think first, and then speak. Or not.
I want to embrace thoughtful dissent.
I want to point at beauty and share it.

Read. Ride. Repeat.