The Best Tire Change

Just weeks after first moving to Seattle in 1992, i found an excellent 30 mile loop through forested parks and winding curves -- The Mercer Island Loop. It's a wonderful ride and i did it several times a month for the first six or eight years i lived in Seattle. I love the curves coming north on the east side of the island; it's gently downhill, the road runs through heavy forest, curving around deep ravines with fairly little traffic.  It feels like i'm cruising through an alternate world. It's a joy and i always just fly.  Every time i come out of the trees at the north end of the island it's jarring.

Here's the route -- if  you don't live in Seattle, just skip down.

I would leave home in Eastlake, cross over I-5, wind through gorgeous Interlaken Park, briefly join the very fast traffic through the Washington Park arboretum, ride down the Olmsted curves, cruise south along Lake Washington past a certain Seattle Rock Star's house and pedal uphill through Frink Park and over the floating bridge.  Then i would ride 13 miles counterclockwise around the edge of Mercer Island.

One drizzly day in November 1994 i was riding this loop, enjoying the sweeping curves, the forest, the lake and the rain.  After the loop around the island, when i was returning on the floating bridge the rain started pelting down harder.  For some reason, which i cannot remember, when i got to the Seattle side of the bridge that day, i decided not to return through Frink Park as usual, but instead went through the bike tunnel above I-90, and rode up 25th Avenue through the Central District neighborhoods to Jefferson Street. This is a very familiar route for me now, i ride it several times a week, it's a perfectly comfortable neighborhood, (it has an undeserved reputation as being somewhat dodgey).  But this was the first time i had ever ridden in this area and i was finding my way, trying to figure out my next turn. That's when i got a flat.

Everyone who knows me knows that i enjoy riding in the rain, but changing a tire in the rain is another story; so i walked across the street to the bus shelter. There was an 85 year old black woman sitting on the bench in the shelter.  She said she'd never ridden a bike, and looking at her walker, said she didn't think she was ever going to.  I asked if she minded if i joined her and when she agreed, i sat down and quickly popped off my wheel.  As i started shoving the tire lever at the tire she said, "Why are you doing THAT?"

I explained tire beads and pinch flats.  She seemed very interested.  When i pulled out the tube she asked about that, and i explained.  When i felt around in the tire for the offending piece of glass, she asked why and i explained preventing a second flat.   I patched and pumped, tucked and palmed.  At each step she asked questions and i spent the 10 minutes till her bus came teaching her how to change a flat.  We both had fun.  It turned what could have been a miserable experience into a memorable one.

Dry Socks

I love the feeling of rain streaming down my face. We are in a pace line, flying down the Green River Valley surprisingly fast. The light rain we have been enjoying all day has turned into a torrential downpour. And we're loving it. We're talking about how much fun it is. My fenders are keeping the spray down and Nadine says that water is pouring down the inside AND the outside of my buddy flap! Dressed well, we're wet but warm. I'm wearing a poly turtleneck, wool shirt and wool socks and bike tights (kicking myself for not wearing the wool kinckers!). I'm soaked.

Earlier in the day we pedaled up the Cedar River Trail, which after it leaves the highway and the pavement ends, takes us through rain forest that is just so beautiful it is hard to believe.  It fills me with joy.  I love that trail and look forward to it, and i'm always surprised at how magnificent it is.  Today, in the rain, the ferns and mosses, the cedars and alders were glowing.  It feels so RIGHT to be in the rain forest in the rain.  It just made me stronger, my legs had all the power i wanted pushing the bike up the gravel trail.  It just doesn't get any better that that.

A few minutes later i found myself in a log shelter in a park eating a sandwich looking out through the rain at the moss covered roofs and trees.  I couldn't be more happy.

My peanut butter looked exactly like the banana slugs we were dodging on the wet trail!

Right now, i'm sitting at home, warm and clean with wool socks on.  Dry socks.

I love riding in the rain, i'm very happy getting wet.  It feels good. And i love getting dry afterwards!  I appreciate the dry in a way i wouldn't otherwise appreciate it. Warm dry wool socks feel so good right now!.

Finally, the creaking is gone.

This was a great ride.  I always enjoy riding.  There are times when it's hard to ride alone, or when someone else is being difficult that can make it challenging, but i can usually enjoy the bike itself, the scenery or the fantastic weather.  Today riding to work in the morning the weather was fantastic.   Heavy rain, but no wind.  It was very nice.

Tonight after the volunteer work party, a good group of us rode north from Bike Works.  These are always the best rides.  Riding at night in the city is one of the most wonderful things.  Tonight the crescent moon and an extremely bright planet Venus were shining down on us as we left Bike Works for the dark shore of Lake Washington.  Good company, quiet roads and a beautiful calm night made my legs strong.  One person was heading further north than Capitol Hill and i stuck along the lake with her for a few miles, crossing the Montlake Bridge and doubling back over the University Bridge.  It was a very pleasant ride and conversation.

On the way back i decided to ride up Interlaken Drive.  I was coming from the other direction so i couldn't ride through the heavy dark forest of car-free Interlaken Park, but instead came through the shaded wealthy houses on the approach from the west.  My strong legs and quiet bike gobbled up the smooth fast pavement and glorious curves of the dark quiet street.  It was magnificent.

Wait a minute!  My QUIET bike?

For a several weeks i've had a terrible creak in my bike when i stand up, or when i pedal hard.   While i love a quiet bike, i accept little sounds, rattles and squeaks, if i know what they are and know they are not doing any damage.


I COULD NOT identify this creak.  I tightened the crank bolts, a common cause of creak.  Bottom bracket too.  I took apart the cranks, handlebars, stem, and examined every inch of the bike.  I had my bottom bracket professionally replaced. It really needed it.  It was creaking, but that didn't get rid of the annoying creak.  My expert mechanic couldn't identify it.  I was getting pretty stressed about it.   I was starting to worry it might be a frame crack!

I installed new handlebars recently, it wasn't that.  I've been adjusting them every couple of days, trying to get used to them.  I took apart the stem, cleaned it and greased it.  That didn't fix it.  I re-ran the cables.  Nothing seemed to do it.  Yesterday while doing something else, i popped off the front wheel.  I adjusted the generator wire and rattled the locking quick release skewer a bit and i cleaned the dropouts and put a tiny layer of grease on them.  Then i re-mounted the wheel.

I guess that must have done it.  It was raining pretty hard on my ride out this morning so i probably wouldn't have heard it if it was creaking.  But it was quiet riding across the city tonight.

My bike was quiet again.  For the first time in weeks.  It was calming.  My new handlebars were finally perfectly adjusted, and i was adjusted to them.  I enjoyed the ride in the rain this morning, loved my steel fenders too.   I really enjoyed the company on the beautiful, stealthy night time scramble up Lake Washington. And as i sped through the sweeping curves from Roanoke to the start of the climb in  Interlaken, i felt one with the bike, i felt fast, felt strong.  I felt happy.

Being There

When we first heard the dog, Ryan was 50 meters or so ahead of me pedaling through thick Northwest rainforest on Sandy Hook Road in Kitsap County.  This would turn into one of the most memorable dog encounters i've ever had on a bicycle.

It wasn't the deep threatening bark of a guard dog, the kind that makes a cyclist's heart skip a beat.  It was a yip yip yip of a very excited, perhaps overly arrogant, little city dog. As we passed a small break in the thick ferns a tiny 5 inch high, fluffy, yellow dog came shooting out of the driveway, as if fired with a rocket.  The little dog seemed certain that it was as ferocious and frightening protecting it's territory as an angry lion. 

I was a little shocked when it didn't stop at the end of the driveway, but instead shot right out into the street.  My deeply embedded cyclist's dog alert kicked in a little late.  I recovered a bit and held my line as the squirrel sized dog fiercely yelped at Ryan's passing; and then, when the bicycle was safely past, continued it's high speed trajectory straight out into the street, making it clear that it COULD have eaten that invader alive if it WANTED to.

My brief fear dissipated, but was replaced by a worry that i might run over the cute little bugger.  As i neared the point where i was going to have to take evasive action, the little dog noticed me coming down the road and was completely shocked, never considering there could be two of us.  Forgetting any attempt at false heroics, it decided to turn around and head for the safety of it's yard.  However it was still moving forward very fast from it's unrestrained launch out of the driveway, and it's tiny claws could get no grip on the wet rainforest asphalt.  Sliding half way across the pavement like a fluffy yellow hockey puck, it finally came to a stop near the center of the road.  Instantly it's legs started pumping to get away from the approaching bicycle, to try to get it back to the driveway, but the only effect at first was straight out of a roadrunner cartoon:  the dog stayed in one place as all four feet moved independently, frantically slipping on the pavement. 

I was no longer in danger of hitting the cute furball, but i was laughing so loudly that Ryan heard me.  The dog's paws finally got some traction and Ryan turned around just in time to see a five inch yellow streak heading back into the rainforest.

Ryan and i were 40 miles into a 50 mile loop from the Bainbridge Ferry up to Port Gamble and back down via Big Valley Road, historic Poulsbo and Lemolo Road.  It's a wonderful, hilly ride.  We stopped at Chief Seattle's grave in Suquamish on the way up after having a magnificent breakfast at the Streamliner Diner in Winslow right off the ferry.


At the end of the day we took a detour on Bainbridge Island to kill some time waiting for the ferry. We passed a really cool crooked little house, with a bigger crooked house being built next to it.

Following the forecast, and the weather of the past several days, we both prepared for wet, cold, windy weather, loading up on extra layers of wool and jackets.  Except for a brief sprinkle at Port Gamble it was a warm, calm, magnificent day, with dramatic clouds and hints of blue.  We both rode in a single long sleeved layer carrying a HUGE bundle of clothes on our rear rack.

I was pretty slow all day.  Ryan is always faster than me, but i was slower than usual, and i'm pretty tired tonight.  There were hills that were a bit of a struggle and i probably shouldn't be this tired;  but i am and it feels kind of good. 51 miles and 2,800 feet of climbing.

It was a wonderful ride, a loop i have been wanting to do for a long time and one i'm sure i will do again.  The riding was GREAT, but the best part was the exhilaration of being in these amazing places, the expansive water views and the dark mossy rainforest. 

Much of the area we passed through is deeply and forever Salish.  It's a powerful feeling for me visiting, passing through.  We stopped to see if the Suquamish museum was open (it wasn't, which guarantees another ride!) and breathed their air and felt the power of their land where the forest meets the sea.    I adore the forest of cedars and moss and ferns.  I love the clouds and rain, the mountains and fjords, the streams and hills.  I love this Salish land more than i can express. 

We talked all day.  We talked about the news, about our daily lives, about bicycles, but we kept coming back to the reasons that we ride.  We agreed that the physical exertion is valuable.  We both share a joy in such an amazingly elegant machine driven by our own power (and the fuel at the bakeries along the way).  We agreed that the pure fun of the wind in our hair, the rain on our face, the road moving beneath us is a pleasure that would be hard to live without

But for both of us just the being there is the heart of this thing.  The bicycle is just the means, the thing that gets us there and puts us right in the world.  Feeling the world, experiencing the places, the things, the weather.  Being in it, maybe even being a tiny part of it briefly, i feel special.  My joy is deep.  Like so many rides, the places and the experience, and the honor of the experience will stay with me for a long time.

That and a little yellow dog sliding across the road.

Jump the Paint!

Yesterday i rode through the intersection of Eastlake and Fuhrman. They've recently painted a green bike lane there to make this very dangerous intersection a little safer. (I witnessed a car hit a bike there once.)  I looked down at the road paint and was reminded of a particularly notable crossing of this intersection back several years ago.

I was heading to a late morning appointment near the University. I'd taken mostly back roads and trails down the hill, but now i was on the major artery.

I was focused; riding with motor traffic northbound on Eastlake Avenue, i knew i had to scramble.  I was very alert -- the south end of the University Bridge, just ahead, is a notoriously dangerous intersection. I looked down the block and saw that the light at Fuhrman Ave had just turned green; if i hurried i could cross the angled intersection with Harvard Ave, make the full block and pass through the traffic light safely right before it changed, leaving me with a car-free gap at the beginning of the bridge; which is exactly the timing you need to safely negotiate the worst sections of the bridge.

There is a bike lane along this block, it's a dangerous one and i frequently avoid it, nevertheless i was aiming for it. As i crossed the first intersection i saw three orange traffic cones placed close together entirely across the bike lane -- there were three more cones, widely spaced, blocking the right car lane. There was no indication of why this was.
I didn't have time to think about it; there was a car revving it's engine right over my left shoulder preventing me from swerving into the left traffic lane.

So i split the cones and went into the blocked off right travel lane. I had accelerated for that move and was moving pretty quickly, but i could see that there were no obstructions. There was no construction work or material in the lane.  I was familiar with this.  Frequently construction zones can offer cyclists a bit of protection from aggressive motorists, so i was pleased and a bit more comfortable alone in that empty lane. 

I glanced, as i often do, at the DON'T WALK signs ahead -- these signs are kind of a pre-yellow light, they help let you know when a light is getting ready to change. It's a very useful little trick when cycling in the city. By the time i was in the middle of the block, the DON'T WALK signs were flashing, time was getting short, but i felt i could still make it, so i sped up a little. There was still no evidence of why the lane was coned.

As i approached the green light at the end of the block, a worker jumped out into my lane and started waving his arms and yelling.  Only then did i notice that they had just painted the 18 inch wide stop line moments before and, understandably, he didn't want me running through the wet paint.  Road paint.  I didn't want me to run through it either.

Once on a ride to Port Townsend, along a bumpy chip seal road, i moved over to ride on the white fogline, a common trick to find a smoother ride. About 250 meters later i came around a corner and saw the paint truck ahead of me painting the fresh white line. My bike, and legs were covered with white road paint.  Road paint is permanent.  It didn't come off my bike until i had it sandblasted for painting, over a year later.

Now i had a problem. I was going to make the green light, and i was protected in that coned off lane.  There was a worker in front of me, and wet paint across the road.  I was going pretty fast, probably too fast to stop.  There are several things i could have done at that point. It's even remotely possible that grabbing a big handful of brake could have skidded me up to the line safely. 

I only had a tiny fraction of a second to make a decision and i made one. Generally my traffic instincts are good, but i'm not going to defend my decision this time. I went for it. I shifted and accelerated hard.  I needed speed for what i was going to do.  The worker yelled at me again, not nicely at all.

I got to the freshly painted line at speed and did a bunny hop, just picked the bike up with my feet and sailed through the air. I can't always pull that off, but with the advantage of speed, i flew though the air quite a long way.  I landed it beautifully, softly on both tires at the same time. It felt like a long leap, but i wasn't sure i had pulled it off.

As i sped across the intersection towards the bridge i heard the same worker shout, "Hey guy, that was really good!", and laugh.

There was no wet paint on my tires. I cleared the line!

Making our own story

"Let's meet for coffee", Kent said.

I've just finished reading Anathem by Neal Stephenson for the second time, and i really enjoyed it. I found this quote, which resonated strongly with me.

He did a new thing with a new set of people every day of his life. And that made him just as different from the people in the traffic jam as I was. ... Thousands of years ago, the work that people did had been broken down into jobs that were the same every day, in organizations where people were interchangeable parts. All of the story had been bled out of their lives.

That was how it had to be; it was how you got a productive economy. But it would be easy to see a will at work behind this: not exactly an evil will, but a selfish will. The people who'd made the system thus were jealous, not of money and not of power but of story. If their employees came home at day's end with interesting stories to tell, it meant that something had gone wrong: a blackout, a strike, a spree killing. The Powers That Be would not suffer others to be in stories of their own unless they were fake stories that had been made up to motivate them. People ... had to look somewhere outside of work for a feeling that they were part of a story, which I guessed was why [people] were so concerned with sports, and with religion. How else could you see yourself as part of an adventure? Something with a beginning, middle, and end in which you played a significant part? ...

[He] got all of this for free by living his stories from day to day, and the only drawback was that the world held his stories to be of small account. Perhaps that was why he felt such a compulsion to tell them, not just about his own exploits in the wilderness, but those of his mentors.

-- Neal Stephenson, Anathem page 414

So we met for coffee. And after sitting on the sidewalk and chatting, we both felt a ride was in order. Kent's suggestion was the Cedar River Trail (30 to 50 miles) -- quite a bit longer ride than i was expecting. I was dressed for hanging in the city, not a long ride, wearing mostly cotton. But i was game.

I was pleased that my bike, my clothes, my legs and my food stocks were able to be flexible enough to take on a ride like this with no notice. All performed perfectly.

We rode through the bike tunnel, down Lake Washington Boulevard past Seward Park to Renton where we found a wonderful Mexican restaurant where we eagerly fueled up.

The Cedar River trail alternates between peaceful riding through the forest and riding along side (but not on!) a major highway. We chatted about life, the Universe and everything as we pedaled along the trail, turned and climbed up Cedar Grove road where we took a brief, but lovely detour into a favorite secret park for a bit of trail riding. The Log Cabin Reach Natural Area is beautiful, gave us a fun taste of off road riding and we saw cougar tracks along the stream.

After mistaking a powerline marker ball for a para glider we cruised into Issaquah, finishing our conversation, and our ride right as the Sound Transit #554 bus rolled up, allowing me to make it to a database consultation in downtown Seattle with perfect timing.

It was a great ride, and a lovely day, a day where we made and lived our own, small stories.

night loop

I was intensely focused. My shadow stretched far in front of me, far out of proportion with me or my bike. My friend behind me was nervous about the gravel trail in the dark. I was focused on keeping strong in front of her until we were out of the park. Her light was casting my shadow on the pitch dark trail along the edge of Puget Sound. The wind was so strong, waves were breaking over the edge of the trail. I concentrated on the cone of light from my generator, kept the bike a solid wind break moving forward. My mind was clear, so rare in today's hyper distracted world. I was focused on the shaddow, on the trail, on the waves, on the bike. Keeping straight down the trail. And enjoying every second of it!

Lincoln Park is a favorite ride of mine. I had been looking forward to riding it at night. It started as a very calm ride. Auri wanted some miles after work and suggested dinner in White Center. That's an area that i have spent very little time and i was excited about seeing it. We left downtown on Airport Way.

Auri on Airport Way

LINK light-rail car shop

The 'R' in Rail is actually the 'R' in the 'Rainier' sign for so many years on the Rainier Brewery across the street. (Not the giant 'R' that was on top of the building).

attempt to get a photo of Aurilee with the fabulously blooming cherry trees in White Center

We rode a few loops of downtown White Center and then had a huge meal at a Cambodian restaurant.

a lot of food

After dinner, and after dark, we took a nice looping ride along Marine Drive towards Fauntleroy. It was a peaceful night as we entered Lincoln Park and casually rode up to the point. We started to feel a few droplets, but we could see stars. It was a nice night. But as soon as we came around the point, we came around into the wind, and it was a very strong wind. The droplets were not wind, but sea spray. The trail is along the seawall, for the length of the park. It was high tide and there was no beach exposed. The waves were not crossing the trail, but they were spraying onto it. Quite suddenly it became a very intense ride. I enjoyed it. I really liked the focus, the work, and i liked being able to handle it.

I found a moment of self awareness, seeing myself pulling through the wind, almost from outside, but most of that stretch i was focused and very present. I love the feeling of the sea spray, the experience of being out in the weather, of doing something. It felt real.

After the park is a cute little alley with tightly packed waterfront houses, and at the end of that alley was a brightly lit house. We were surprised to see Christmas lights this far into spring, but upon closer inspection, we saw they were for EASTER! I had never seen Easter lights before.

Easter Lights

We were somewhat sheltered from the wind along Beach Ave, but once we got to Alki, where we were hoping to have coffee, or dessert, the wind was full force.

strong wind at Alki

a ferry in the distance

Unfortunately nothing was open on this blustery night. But once we made the turn around Duwamish head, that screaming wind was at our backs, pushing us towards home!

Seattle skyline

Seattle skyline

Seattle skyline

SCUBA divers at Seacrest Park

SCUBA divers at Seacrest Park

Along The Lake

The Volunteer Repair Party at Bike Works was bigger than anyone could remember. Lots of people. A group of us, 4 or 5, often ride back to Capitol Hill together. Tonight there were 13 of us! It was a a great bike gang.

There are a variety of routes, most often we ride a route which takes us up the ridge to a wonderful view of above Lake Washington on 30th Ave S. But today we turned right and went down along Lake Washington. I was a little nervous about this dark route because i'm still riding with LED lights while i make change in generators; i haven't re-installed my halogen light yet.

We rode along Genesee park and into the darkness of Lake Washington boulevard. It was fine. It was in fact, amazing to be there in the night along the lake. Cruising fast in a group of friends. I felt lucky.

We swept uphill on the Olmsted Curves far faster than seemed possible, and then doubled back through the bicycle/pedestrian tunnel to Judkins park on the other side of which we picked up our normal zig zag up the spine of the hill towards home.

I love these group rides after events, because it's fun to ride together and it's really cool the way people slowly peal off along the route, the core of the group getting smaller and smaller. I'd love to have a graphic of that, i'm told that's really geeky. Anyone surprised? Didn't think so.

A gorgeous ride along the lake and good company really take the stress out of a day. I felt so much better afterwards.

There were none of the aggressive drivers i had to navigate around on the way south at 5pm. Riding at night makes you feel that the city belongs to you, it's quiet and spreads out under your wheels. The sliver of moon was beautiful, with earthshine on the dark section. I love earthshine!

The night was cold and clear and when the group had whittled down to just two of us and we got near our respective homes, we both wanted to ride some more, so we added a loop around Volunteer park.

Five miles on April Fifth

All day i sat at my desk working and, in the background trying to find calmness, to center myself. Working at home i really miss the bike commute. Finally in the evening i grabbed the bike. Not my bike, my beloved Sparkle Burgundy Bianchi Volpe. I grapped the customized Redline Monocog flight 29er that Kent has generously loaned me for the last month during my bike rebuild project. He's coming to pickup his Octocog tomorrow so i figured i'd take it on one last spin. It's a REALLY fun bike.

I had an errand to run. I headed out along the edge of the hill, got a peek-a-boo view of Lake Union and Queen Anne and then up around Volunteer Park. The north end of Capitol Hill was deserted at 10pm. The only movement i saw was the little white terrier, which of course waddled right in front of me. I happily stopped and waited while she crossed.

The Octocog has 29er wheels and it just rolls over anything and everything. Curbs are not a problem. You almost want to AIM for potholes. It's a very zippy bike, corners fast and feels quick. It's no longer the single speed that Kent took on the Great Divide; i was thankful for the 8 speed freewheel. I've missed friction shifting. Like i said, it's a really fun bike.

It was a cold, mostly clear night. The wind had mostly died down and the streets were mostly dry although you could feel a little rain in the air. I snuck up Grandview for, well, a Grand View of Lake Washington, Kirkland, Windermere and the poor folks in cars on the 520 floating bridge. I swung up through the park past the Black Sun and it's tourist perfect view of the Space Needle.

Fourteenth Avenue is interesting. As it leaves the park there are tree shaded multi-million dollar mansions lining the street, really astonishingly big houses. The street was quiet except for the wide 29er tiers crunching on the pavement. But about 4 blocks along, in the middle of a block, it suddenly changes to much more pedestrian apartment buildings. As the density increased so did the activity, more cars, pedestrians, activity.

I zipped through the Seattle University Campus and up to the ever wonderful Cal Anderson park. I took a 2 minute breather to watch the Bike Polo, and then up by the fountain i rolled past a fire juggler spinning in the dark. Moving back north the streets were deserted again and i pulled up to my errand at Kinkos.

I rode 5 miles to run an errand 3 blocks from home. It was the best part of the day.

After the rain.

It was a long day and i was tired. I was ready to be home.

All day i looked out the window at the heavy rain pounding down while i was inside working. It rains in Seattle. I love the rain. Lots of people have been complaining about it lately, trying to find a way to see it as unusual, or wrong. It's not wrong. I watched the rain out the window all day as i worked. It was wonderful.

When it finally came time to leave, i pulled out my rain legs (the best rain pants i've every used) and put them on over my wool knickers.

About two blocks after i rolled out the door, the rain stopped and the sky cleared. While rain is wonderful, there can be little that is more perfect than an evening ride right after the rain stops. The air is so clear and clean and everything seems to be more alive than usual. As i pedaled north, Seattle's hills hid the mountains on the horizon, but the clouds turned deep pink and purple.

A glorious sunset after the rain. Rides like this are good for the soul.

neighborhood scramble

The guy down the hall from me has a birthday today.

I hopped on my bike and scooted out the door. I love just jumping on the bike, not needing any preparation. (Yes i have clipless, can't live without them, so i had my Keene bike shoes on.) The bike is finally starting to work pretty well. Every day i make a few more adjustments. Today i took apart the crankset, cleaned it, put the spacers in the right place and carefully put it back together, making sure every bolt was tight. I wanted to test it.

It rode really nice! The front shifting is almost dialed in. It's finally feeling good. I'm happy about that.

Riding through the neighborhood was fun. It's an active urban neighborhood and there were lots of people out. Some unfortunately in cars, but many happy people on the sidewalks and plenty of bikes.

I stopped at Cupcake Royale, i'd never been there, and bought a few cupcakes while chatting with the very pretty young woman behind the counter. Back out to the bike (it really does look good!) i couldn't just head home, so i went up towards the Park. The light rain was getting a little harder. It felt so good on my head, in my hair and on my face, but wasn't so great on my glasses.

I scampered through park, down a little hiking trail and out into the rich "Harvard-Belmont" neighborhood.

It felt great. Three miles on April third!

The Air Horn

I have this air horn for my bicycle. It was given to me -- it was kind of a joke, kind of an award. I don't think it was a comment on how i ride -- I hope not.

The horn mounts on the handlebars. It's connected to a bottle that fits into a water bottle cage, you pump air into it with a bike pump, pump to a really high pressure. It's loud. It's REALLY loud. I don't like to be close to it.

About a week ago i mounted it on the newly painted bike. Mounting it was also kind of a joke -- i was going to be riding with the folks who gave it to me. They laughed when they saw it. I honked it a few times for fun, in industrial areas away from homes or people. The cyclists with me didn't want to be in front of me when i honked it.

I rode with it for a week. I never once used it for it's intended purpose. But i thought about it a lot. I didn't actually ever think about using it, but i thought about the horn.

There are lots of minor conflicts daily with motorists who are distracted, aggressive or clueless. But all of those, even the frustrating ones, i handle without the need for sounding like an 18 wheeler. Sometimes i get annoyed, mostly i just stay alert and take action. I rarely, if ever, get into a verbal conflict.

So riding along i started thinking about how this thing might be used. There are really only two ways: prophylactic or punitive.

It could be used as a prophylactic measure -- to prevent something. If something was about to happen i might use it to try to prevent a conflict. A loud burst on the horn might, perhaps, alert a driver who was doing something crazy, like the Taxi cab last week that was baring down on me on a one lane residential street. But in those situations i'm more concerned with taking evasive action, my finger does not naturally go looking for the horn button while i'm getting out of the way.

Or it could be used as a punitive measure -- in anger, after someone threatened me and the danger had passed. Punishment. The other night a Cadillac switched to my side of the street flipped their bright lights and drove straight at me. I could've blasted the horn as i squeezed by them. But my being a jerk because they were a jerk would not make it better. That's not who i want to be.

Today a car ran a stop sign in front of me, didn't slow down, didn't even pretend to stop. THIS. This was the only situation where it might make sense to use the horn. But i didn't. I yelled, but my natural reaction was to take evasive action and keep both hands on the bars.

It's a fun thing but there really is no good time to use it. I removed it from the bike today. If i'm ever in a parade maybe i'll put it back on.

riding in the rain.

I didn't have bad clothes. So it wasn't bad weather.

It rained very hard today. I love it so much, i love watching it, i love hearing it. Really the sound of rain is the most wonderful sound in the world, it's comforting, cozy, safe.

My wool knickers, wool shirt and sweater, wool socks, rainlegs and custom bike wizard jacket kept me warm and dry enough on the ride south in the morning. The ride north in the evening was quite the same.

The feeling of the rain on my face makes me happy, it feels so good, so real! It's weather that reaches out and touches you. I revel in it.

First day of April, fifteen wonderful, wet miles.

May Valley Road

I was quite slow getting out of the house.

I wandered around in circles and procrastinated. I took a long time to get dressed for the chilly weather. I thought about adding a couple of different loops to the ride, but i wasted too much time. A friend lost her bus pass on a bike ride the day before and i considered riding where she thought she lost it, but it was 15 miles
out of my way. I always enjoy riding but i felt very grumpy and tired. I wasted so much time i had to call my friend Nadine and tell her i would be late. She was making me lunch in exchange for fixing some computer problems she was having.

I headed out the door, and out on a residential route out of the city that i take almost every day. Things kept going wrong, my shoes were not tied well, i didn't feel comfortable on the bike, and on and on. I had to stop several times in the first mile or two.

And then i heard my rear brake making a scraping noise. I've been riding in some pretty heavy rain lately, i knew my brakes were in poor shape. I figured that, once again, a shard of metal either from the road, or from my rim, had gotten embedded in the brake pad. That not only makes a noise, but can do some serious damage, so, only 2 miles from home, in a central city area many people would call a ghetto, i stopped again. This was getting silly. When i looked at the brake pad, i noticed that there was NO pad at all, and the scraping was the metal holder hitting the rim. This just wasn't my day.

After staring at it for a minute or two i got out my allen key and adjusted the toe-in so that that the rear portion of the brake, which still had some rubber, was hitting the rim, instead of the front.

My road repair worked and i was kind of proud of myself, but i was still riding slow. I made it through town and out to the floating bridge across Lake Washington. The bridge is attached to a freeway and can be a difficult ride at times with the fast traffic on your right. There was a strong north wind coming from my left creating strange air currents around my glasses. The strangeness was that it was causing my RIGHT eye to water.

I got up onto Mercer Island, which is a suburban town and is quite hilly. I always say that i'm never unhappy to be riding my bike, but i was struggling so much that morning and in such a lousy mood, i actually started to think that maybe this was the one time that it wasn't a good ride.

Through Bellevue the bike trail, still paralleling Interstate 90, goes on a low bridge over a lovely swampy wildlife refuge called the Mercer Slough, and then into the neighborhoods of large lakeside suburban houses. I struggled up the small hills and was really dreading the big hill on Coal Creek Parkway, not to mention the very steep approach to Nadine's house on 128th.

Finally after about 15 or 18 miles i started to get into a rhythm. Sometimes it takes me 7 miles to get warmed up, perhaps today it was just longer, because i flew up the hill in the bike lane on Coal Creek parkway easily, cruising through the strip malls of the sprawland.

When i turned onto May Valley Road, less than 20 miles from home, i was feeling strong and moving fast. May Valley was gorgeous. Crisp and beautiful with forest on my left and farms, mostly horse farms, on the right. It's a narrow valley that comes down out of the mountains and there was a fresh, chill wind coming down the valley. But even with the headwind, i was flying.

There were no cars. All the way from home i had traveled via bike lane or bike trail, May Valley Road was the first time i was actually on the road. One car passed me in the entire 7 miles. It was amazing to me that in less than 2 hours i could pedal from the center of the city to the hills and horse farms in the country. Maybe not that unusual in Europe, but almost unheard of in the US.

The ride up May Valley was one of the most glorious i've ever had, riding strong, wind in my face, snowy mountains far at the head of the valley, gliding along the smooth, quiet pavement, with only horses and bald eagles for company.

I was actually a little disappointed when i came upon the turn off to cross the valley. As i crossed the valley i noticed the strong, cold wind out of the mountains to my left. I powered up the incredibly steep, short hill on 128th without stopping and made the corner.

Two miles later, skirting the edge of Lake McDonald i was only a quarter mile from Nadine's house when it suddenly started snowing. It was a solid pellet type of snow, and there was a lot of it. I loved the feeling of it on my face as i rounded the last curve. It wasn't thick enough to obscure the view of the house, but close to it. I rolled up and hopped up on the porch.



I do really love snow; i was very happy to get to ride in it a little bit... but also happy to have arrived. As i stepped in the house Nadine gave me a mug of hot chocolate. Her grandkids were asleep upstairs. We sat and watched as the snow turned into a blizzard of big fluffy flakes. After lunch there was perhaps 1.5 inches on the ground already and we took a walk across the field to look at the lake. It was perfect.

A Hard year on The Divide

(originally published on Kent's Bike Blog in June 2010.
While Kent was away racing the Great Divide Mountain Bike Race, i was substitute blogger.)

The most important thing anyone has ever told me is what my camp director Tay Gillespie repeated constantly when i was a kid: "Happiness is a path, not a destination." As i've rolled through life since then i've discovered frequently that she was correct. I can't seem to always live by those words, but i've never heard better advice.

This is a very challenging year on the Divide, due mostly to lots and lots of mud, but also to cold. I spoke to Kent yesterday and he said that he's in as good or better riding shape than 5 years ago. But the trail is in worse shape.

The snow and mud not only slow riders down, often to the 24 inch gear (2 feet, aka walking), but the deepest mud can strip off derailleurs, break chains, snap spokes, trash brakes, and just generally clog the bike to the point of making it luggage, a load to be carried rather than the most elegant transportation.

It took Kent 4 days to cover what took 3 days in 2005. Most of the other veterans are experiencing a similarly longer ride, and most of the Rookies are staggered and amazed.

An awfully lot of them, including some still riding, were not NEARLY as well prepared for this race as Kent was. Over a dozen racers have dropped out, so far. (More than 1/4 of the starting contingent.) Many dropped out because of the physical challenge - it's a REALLY hard race; some have had equipment failures. But for most, it was mental. The goal paled against the challenge of the road.

Kent stressed that he's having a great time -- just talking to him made me wish i was there riding with him. He's riding, and walking, hard. He is motivated by the finish line, but he's enjoying his trip through the mountains. He's gaining strength from the fantastic scenery.

About the fast guys way out front, he said, and i will quote in full: "holy cow".

This is a race, have no doubt, and Kent is pushing himself hard. He's got goals and dreams of the finish. But the Mountain Turtle knows, and constantly remembers my camp director's mantra. It's about the road. Who knows what the destination will be.

Kent is enjoying the road. Every time i have ridden with Kent over the years, he has embodied this philosophy (although he's never stated it in those words). That's the key that makes it so much fun to ride with him. He enjoys the ride, the road, the path. And that's why he's such a good Divide racer.

Hasten Slowly Mountain Turtle!

Mark