Snow day in Saxapahaw

The question of riding bicycles out of choice, necessity, or some mixture thereof was solved for this tandem couple this weekend. A friday night storm of snow and ice closed the roads and filled the fields, and persistent freezing temperatures have kept it all in place. We were forced, albeit happily, to hang up the Sidis in favor of the Bean boots and go frolic in the snow.

No biking today, but plenty of fun to come...

The unusually wintry winter we’re experiencing in North Carolina delivered the sort of snowy weekend that exists deep in the collective American sentimental memory of the season – this is real winter. Whether you’re from a serious winter climate (i.e. The North, like this Mainer) or an unserious winter climate (i.e. The South, like my honey), I bet we conjure up a similar vision of the perfect winter day – bright white snow sparkling under the sun after snowing all night, sound softened by the deep snow, meditative crunching of snow under boots, red-faced children on sleds, hot cocoa. This was exactly the scene in Saxapahaw this weekend, a scene that comes around perhaps once every five to ten years.

This being the South, it’s a given they don’t have the equipment to clear and treat the roads – and I’m happy for any reason not to get in the car. However, it also means that when the snow hits, we’re not prepared with the truly essential equipment. What to use for a sled? Luckily we live in a river town, so improvisation was easy. That which floats could also be used to go down a steep slope. We dug out our truck tire inner tub that we use to float on the Haw. It’s old, and had a couple holes. This is where bicycle skills come in handy:

Patch kit and pump, no problem.

My stoker’s enthusiasm for sledding, partly due to her geographic deprivation of snow during her childhood, is unparalleled. Long before I roused myself from bed on Saturday, and then again on Sunday, she had our warm gear pulled out, a lunch packed, and a thermos of hot tea ready for full days out on hills. These were to be epic days for us and our dog who’s built for this weather more than anything.

Recently I’ve been considering why Saxapahaw was a better place for a settlement along the Haw as opposed to any other stretch. It’s been continuously inhabited for centuries, mostly recently by the Sissipahaw Indians, before the Europeans migrated to the area with their mills and churches. Following the closing of the mill in the 90s, Sax has entered its latest state of transition, as the center of a community that is trying to be more inclusive of workers, farmers, foodies and artists regardless of race. Why all of this activity here at this point along the Haw? It has to be the tall hills that rise above the river, which provided enough high ground for housing and a water tower. The major landholders in the town, the Jordans, maintain a huge open field of rolling hills. These hills are of course perfect for sledding.

After a few runs to break trail, we were attaining some long runs and serious speeds.

At either end of the field where the hills were steepest and longest, neighbors gathered with whatever sleds they could find. I’d never met so many Saxapahemians. Even during the summer when the Saturday farmer’s market and live music draws a couple hundred folks, you’re never sure who of them actually live in the area. The snow was an event for the local community itself. It’s a tradition that goes back decades. We sledded with a family for a couple hours who’d been in the area for a few generations, who said they’d all come around to these fields every time there was snow.

A slope behind the mill houses off Hilltop St was by far the most popular. By the time we got there, the slope was completely slick, and jarring moguls had formed. It was teeming with children, and plenty of adults were joining in the fun. The slope went off the back yard of one house whose residents have been there renting for a few months. They had set up a stand of hot cocoa for everyone to enjoy. I said it was cool of them let people play off their back yard. They replied that they didn’t have a choice. This is just where the locals go whenever it snows.

Watching this group from afar, we’d seen some large objects going down the slope. As we approached, we realized we were watching the true merging of the river town with a snowy day. The older kids, by whom I mean the adult men, were running their canoes and kayaks down the slope.

Drag race!

We watched this crew launch downhill, hit a rut on the way down and turn full sideways before righting themselves, and finally flip over. No worries about drowning in that canoe, but bones have something to fear.

Our only lament was that we only had one tube to slide on, and that we didn’t have a sled we could ride on together. We’re a tandem couple, and we needed something like a classic toboggan (for the southerners out there, I mean the multi-person sled, and not a knit hat). On our very last run of the day, we decided to try it anyway – we both loaded onto our tube and set off down the hill. It was the wildest, funnest ride of the day. As a sort of turnabout, my beloved stoker sat up front and could watch the path down the hill and the quickly approaching edge of the woods, while I, typically the captain on the tandem, was on the back, laying back unable to see forward or control our speed or direction in the least. I was literally being being dragged along at epic speed, at the mercy of gravity and whatever control my partner had up front. It was the best run of the weekend.

Who’s biking? Choice or necessity

I made contact this week with a fellow bike commuter I’ve seen nearly every day since last summer. His is a rare sight on a bicycle on the rural roads outside of Chapel Hill and Carrboro – an older Latino man that we dubbed Cristobal so that we could talk about him between us. When the temperature and day light permitted the 20-mile ride to town, we’d cross paths with this man going the opposite direction. My partner and I would both wave from our tandem across the busy road, and eventually he started waving back.

As a sort of complement to this story, a new report called “Bicycling and Walking in the United States: 2010 Benchmarking Report” was released today by the Alliance for Biking & Walking, which uses what (limited) available data there is to look at how many people are biking and walking in the U.S., and who they are. Well, there’s us. And there’s Cristobal.

Before we met Cristobal, we speculated that he was Mexican, probably from a certain state where most of the latinos in this part of North Carolina come from. (It helps that my partner works with migrant populations in this area of Mexico). We also figured that he was commuting by bicycle to work at a farm or quarry 12-15 miles out into the countryside because he didn’t have a car. In my head, I was happy for Cristobal, and hoped that he enjoyed the choice of bicycling as much as I do. I thought, he must be one of the most fit guys in his neighborhood.

He rides an older, beat-up blue bike with cruiser handlebars and baskets on his rear rack. Until recently he wore a cap rather than helmet, and still he wears a helmet only occasionally. When we would pass by on our tandem in warmer months, he seemed comfortable on the bike, even a bit amused. We stopped riding for the winter, but we see him every day on our drive. The morning temperatures are in the 20s and 30s. He has a thick coat, mittens, and a helmet sits atop a knit cap. He looks miserable.

As we were traveling home in the early winter dark, we didn’t see him. Not because he wasn’t there, but because he had no lights or reflectors. I decided to buy him a set of front and rear lights. I was worried for his safety, but I also took this as my opportunity to meet him. There’s a gas station where we often see his bike where he probably stops for a snack on the way to and from work. After weeks of driving by, we finally passed the store while he was there. We stopped and met Cristobal.

First off, his name’s not Cristobal, but it’ll do for this blog. We approached with big awkward grins and the set of lights. Luckily my partner is also fluent in Spanish. While I set to installing the lights on his bike, she was able to get Cristobal’s story. As she guessed, Cristobal is from Guanajuato. He’s a bit older than the typical recent Mexican immigrant, though he’s probably younger than he looks. He moved here two years ago and lives with his son who’s in his 20s. I shook Cristobal’s hand, and it was rough and chalky.

We introduced ourselves as the tandem couple that waved to him when we passed him back in the warmer months – he seemed to remember us. We told him that we were impressed he biked so far out everyday, that he must be strong, and that he’s a better person than us for dealing with the winter. The private bicycle cheerleader in my head was shouting RAH-RAH, but Cristobal’s take on it was different. He said he hates biking. That he only does it because he needs the job, the job is far from town, and he has no car. But he said he was grateful for the lights, shook our hands with genuine warmth, and mounted his bike to ride back home in the dark.

We passed him on our way home today and were glad to see his new lights flashing from the side of the road. It was a warmer afternoon, in the 50s, but tomorrow they are predicting snow, which at least means cold and precipitation. Trucks were spraying “brine” along the road.

Without speculating about Cristobal’s personal circumstances, we know that North Carolina makes it difficult for immigrants to obtain drivers’ licenses now – a reckless conflation of poor immigration policy with public safety, which is what the license process should really be about – but that’s a problematic topic for another post. According to what I can gather from this new “Benchmarks” report from the Alliance for Biking & Walking (ABW), Cristobal’s reasons for bike commuting are at least as common as all of us folks now blogging about our conscious decisions to commute by bike. Mine is a choice, his is not.

As I said at the beginning, Cristobal, the Latino immigrant bike commuting out of necessity, is a rare sight out on the country roads. But it’s not so rare in cities and towns across this country. According to the ABW report, while Hispanics now make up 15% of the U.S. population, they account for 22% of total bike trips. If this data is accurate, then that population is overrepresented among bicyclists, while perhaps underrepresented in the popular media image of who bicyclists are.

The ABW report also attempts to break down bike trips by socioeconomic brackets, but that data seems to come from 2001 numbers, which may or may not be relevant anymore. For what they’re worth, those old numbers indicate that across income levels, the share of bike trips is basically the same. What is even harder to capture is the reason (utility or recreation or some combination of those) for the bike trip. ABW speculates that the lower-income share of bike trips may be more for utility, while higher income classes may bike more for recreation. Given that Hispanics have a very high poverty rate in North Carolina and the rest of the U.S., it’s probably not a wildly irresponsible assumption that among Hispanic bikers, utility trips out of necessity make up a large proportion of their total trips by bike, like Cristobal.

There’s another image of the bicyclist that I don’t see represented in the media and bike blog community that much, but was probably the most prevalent when I was a kid growing up in rural Maine, and may still be the popular image of bicyclists among certain communities, such as low-income communities and rural areas. My childhood mind remembers basically three types of bicyclists: kids like me on their bmx’s; the occasional odd-ball adult in neon lycra; and, more commonly, the slovenly-looking fellow biking against traffic. Bikes in this last category were known as DUI-machines, and I bet their popularity has not waxed or waned one way or the other.

I’m happy, and exceedingly lucky, to have the choice to ride my bike (er… choice of one of many bikes) for utility or for fun. (I’m even luckier to have a partner to ride a tandem with, who has by and large the same motivation as me, plus can speak Spanish…). There’s probably at least as many bicyclists who ride out of necessity, as out of choice. As our society looks at products to market, services and education to offer, and new transportation plans and policies, I hope that a major demographic of the bicyclist population doesn’t get lost on the side streets.

Sensory overload

I saw a vexing thing as I rode along the paved Bolin Creek Greenway in Chapel Hill today. What I saw I have ambivalent feelings about – a man who appeared to be blind led by his service dog, with the tell-tale Apple-white cords dangling from his ears.

Most of the greenway users I observe are joggers and walkers, and lots of people walking dogs. And, most of those folks that are out there solo have some sort of device to their ears, like a cell phone or ipods. Since it’s basically a recreational space with a lot of users, I take it easy on the bike rather than treat the path like a closed race course. I came from behind the man with the service dog and slowed to his pace. As I got closer, the man suddenly spooked and pulled at his dog, then settled down. I waited to pass slowly until I could be sure the way around him was clear. That’s when I confirmed that yes, he was blind, and yes, he had ipod buds in his ears.

On the one hand, I have to say that it’s perfectly acceptable that a visually-impaired person would partake of the same pleasures and activities as anyone on the path – in this case a pleasant stroll with his dog along a car-free path by a stream, whilst listening to favorite music, news, or comment.

On the other hand, the more I think about it, the more I’m opposed to blocking out any of my senses – hearing, sight, metal focus – while I’m out there ambulating and locomoting on streets and paths. I wrote about my feelings about using devices like cell phones and ipods while driving and biking a while back. I admitted that I’d tried biking with headphones for a while and realized that was pretty dangerous. And, I confessed to running or dog-walking while listening to music. As I’m exposed to more miles traveled via bike, foot, or car, (and hear about more studies and news stories) I’m convinced that I need all available senses at my disposal.

The winter days and the proximity of a gym have given me a chance to experiment with one alternative to running outside along paths or streets while listening to music – running while listening to music on the treadmill. Treadmills pose their own risks I discovered. If I think about it too hard, staying balanced on the moving walkway seems fairly improbable, but perhaps only as improbable as staying within the lines on the pavement while driving – don’t think about it too much and you’ll be fine.

I found that the danger on the treadmill in fact lies, yes, with the ipod. There I am, clicking through my podcasts, just settling into the comforting nasal tones of Ira Glass’s sensitive observations when the ipod slips from my hand, hits the treadmill track and is shot backward from the apparatus. I flail my arms in an attempt to snatch it back like a jedi, but forget to coordinate the pace of my legs with the pace of the moving belt below me. I jump, pirouette, spin, end up running backwards a few steps while still on the treadmill before I, too, am spewed off the end.

At least all I tumbled onto was a padded mat, rather than into the path of a car. Alas, the treadmill is so boring and running is so painful that I’m still willing to risk the twisted ankle by mixing the personal running device with the personal listening device.

Radio piece on empowering people through bikes, Worldview 1/22/2010

Listening to a fascinating piece on the work of World Bicycle Relief.

via Worldview 1/22/2010.

Winter-eyes

I was looking forward to moving back to North Carolina from Chicago for many reasons: mainly to begin living with my fiancee, but not the least, I was looking forward to a full 12-month year of bikeable weather. When I originally left NC a few years ago, I rejoiced at returning to the land of four distinct seasons, each resplendent with their respective glories and miseries. In the south, winter seemed to flatten into a continuum between fall and spring, basically stretching the entire period into one long season, that is just kinda nice.

I quickly realized, however, that the previous years in North Carolina and a couple in mild western Oregon, had permanently shaped my expectations. Snowy landscapes are indeed beautiful, and I have a bizarre sort of nostalgia for shoveling the driveway (formerly a bane of my childhood spent in Maine). But I want to stay active year-round in the physical activity I had chosen – that being biking.

Yes, you can bike in Chicago throughout the winter, and I’ve seen a few news articles lately giving tips (here and here), but I’d say that’s mainly for urban commuters who go a few miles at a clip, or for daredevil masochists. I’m talking about getting those long country miles under my wheels without the threat of snow plows and ice hazards.

The short days have obviated the 20-mile bike commute, until the light begins to hold out long enough for safer passage on the rural roads, and I’m left with a 3-mile bike ride from the park-and-ride lot. I also have to admit that the unusually cold days that struck the south the past month did a number on my and my tandem partner’s motivation to take weekend leisure rides (I realize there’s no excuse for this given the above comments about the north).

In any event, despite the colder than normal temps and the short days, we have occasionally gotten out for a tandem ride. And this is what I’ve found out: the less frequent bike rides during this season have given me a new perspective that there is indeed something that is distinct about the southern winter. This season, chilly if not cold, darker and rainier than the others, uncovers an environment that I can’t see during the other seasons. Here, the fall leaves hang on long, and spring bursts forth with an explosion of green come March. But right now, I can actually see the landscape around me that, for the other 9 months of the year, I literally can’t see for the trees.

From our back deck, we have a clear view of the Haw river, and the dam over which the river swollen from repeated heavy rains continues to thunder. And bike rides down roads regularly pedaled throughout the year yield discoveries otherwise invisible to us: junk yards usually hidden in the woods; houses deep into properties we didn’t know where there; farm fields that extend farther and support more livestock than we realized. Basically, more cars, people, and cows surrounding us. On the bike, we pass through these areas, stealthily glancing into back yards, seeing our world more clearly.

One of my early complaints about the piedmont landscape was that the mild hills and dense trees prevented me from ever getting a grasp on what the environment around me was shaped like and what it contained. Winter provides that chance.

And then, when rides become more rare, things happen on usually familiar roads that totally change our ride. E.g.:

Uh oh... bridge is out.

Note to local readers: bridge is out on McBane Mill for the foreseeable future.

Pedal/brake errors: car < bike < tandem

I’ve been reading news stories from the past few years about car crashes caused by pedal application errors – that is, when a driver accidentally stomps on the wrong pedal, either gas or brake. The only stories out of the hundred I’ve seen so far are of drivers hitting the gas when they meant to brake, and then careening catastrophically into whatever happens to be in front of them. It’s pretty grisly stuff to spend my day reading. The majority of these cars go sailing into store fronts as the drivers are trying to park somewhere, but they also run down pedestrians on sidewalks, crosswalks, playgrounds, parking lots, and inside struck buildings, like businesses, homes, and elementary schools. [Saw this blog post recently suggesting, perhaps accurately, that Wal-Mart parking lots may be the most dangerous places in America.] The least of it is that thousands of dollars in damage are done to property and vehicles in each wreck; worst are the disfiguring injuries and deaths.

Age and experience seem to play a big role in these accidents. Drivers in their first couple years often make the mistake, but more than anyone seem to be drivers over 60. However, it could happen to anyone anytime in moments of panic, frustration, dullness, or total distracted absorption in things other than driving.

These crashes are often described by witnesses as explosions, bombs going off, or tornadoes ripping through a building. Other things that are described like this are explosions, bombs going off, tornadoes leveling towns, and terrorist acts. I’m just saying…

There’s really nothing amusing about these stories I have to sift through. So I had to change the game in my mind to deal with it a little, and I tried to think about corollaries in bicycling. Bicycles don’t really present the opportunity of mixing up the force of acceleration with the force of deceleration. We’re not likely to have an instance in which a cyclist has to explain to a terrified crowd that they accidentally pedaled too hard when they actually meant to slow down, and ended up making a crater in the side of an office building.

The only nearly related mistakes I can envision on a bike are 1) choosing which brake to use when you have a front and rear hand brake, and 2) forgetting you can’t coast on a fixed gear when you’re used to riding a free wheel/hub. Of course, the scale of the mistake between a car versus a bike makes this comparison basically worthless.

When I lived in the Chicago in the past few years, I did a lot of my commuting and night-out going on a fixed gear that I’d built especially for being the city, like I now realize a lot of idiots (like myself) do, but have no business doing. It seemed to make sense to have an uncomplicated bike with less to steal and less moving parts to get destroyed in the ridiculous weather and salted streets up there. I only had one major mishap during my first tentative week of riding the fixed gear around the city. I was moving pretty fast and then realized I needed to stop quickly at an intersection, and my bicycle-muscle-memory automatically decided that I should coast first. This bucked my feet off the pedals, crunched my boys on the top tube, and and bruised my calf when the metal pedal came back around and actually dented to the shape of my leg.

Now about those brake levers. There’s lots of debate about proper brake application: when to use the front or rear or both in certain situations. But when you’re a new rider, it seems like the basic (and not necessarily correct) advice you receive is to avoid using the front brake alone lest you flip yourself over the handlebars. (The late great Sheldon Brown has a thing or two to say about this.)

I got my first bike with brake levers when I was twelve, having ridden coaster brakes since I was 5, so making the switch was a little awkward. I remember tottering around on that bike in my driveway trying to get the hang of it before hitting the neighborhood streets. I ran into the family cars a few times, mainly because I remembered too late that I even had brake levers to squeeze, but of course nothing explosive happened. Then there was the time about 10 years ago when I was house-sitting and decided to take the owners fancy (at the time) carbon racing bike for my first ever carbon racing bike experience. I wasn’t used to light road bikes at the time either, nor was I used to how quickly I could sail over the handlebars if I panicked and squeezed the front brake too quickly. I guess that crash could have been catastrophic, for me at least, as I landed like a sack of potatoes in front of a car at an intersection.

Now I realize that once again, the tandem is the ultimate solution for all my biking needs: in this case, for brake application errors. Sure, the decision to apply the front or rear brake in specific situations can effect handling through turns, or on various pavement conditions. However, with my partner on the back, I’ll never have to worry about the endo ever again.

Dogs.

The stoker weighs in about dogs:

I am afraid of dogs, even though we have one. I am not exactly sure where this fear comes from. My mother occasionally recalls an experience I can’t remember when I was two and she rescued me from a German shepherd dragging me down the street by my hair. Or, maybe my fear comes from all the stories my grandfather told about his dog encounters. As a child he was bitten a couple of times and from then on went on all walks with a long wood staff. Maybe my fear of dogs has to do with an interview I heard on NPR about a guy getting eaten alive by a bear—it just seems like something that could also happen with a dog.

Getting a road bike provided me with a lot of new reasons to fear dogs. Over the years, some of the more memorable dogs I have encountered on my bike include a chow-cheetah mix that outran our tandem at 26 miles an hour, two chihuahua-pit bull mixes that almost got squashed and wrecked us, the pit bull monster that broke away from his owner and nearly ate us all up, the house of the seven black labs, five snarling curs on a road named “Lamb,” and a great dane whose teeth were as high as my handlebars. Then there have been all the puppies that have chased us along busy roads. I particularly hate going past houses that have life-sized plaster dogs as yard ornaments, because from a distance they look like real dogs poised to get me.

The following video illustrates how we felt today during the one encounter riding home today.

Wolf hunting caribou in BBC's Planet Earth.

See the baby deer – that was us today on our ride.

Cycling on rural roads has taught me some truths about dogs and bikes:
1) Dog owners do not always leash their dogs.
2) Dog owners who live on busy roads do not always leash their dogs.
3) To a dog, there is something irresistible about a human whizzing past a house at about the same speed as a running deer.
4) The best, loveliest rides have the meanest dogs.
5) The worst dogs appear when you are going uphill.
6) Before a bike ride through the country, it is better not to watch that episode of Planet Earth where the wild dogs attack the gazelle.
7) Dogs are less likely to go after groups of riders.

One of my favorite conversations with other cyclists is how to deal with dog encounters. Some of the strategies I have heard include using pepper spray, throwing handfuls of rocks, squirting with the water bottle, shouting “no,” kicking in the face, clubbing with a tire pump, activating dog sonar to hurt their ears, yelling “go faster!” and carrying a gun. While I wouldn’t try all of these, I clearly need a strategy besides yelling “no,” and “go faster!” which didn’t really work today on our ride home from work (I am writing this from the hospital. Just kidding, y’all). On the next ride, I’m going to stuff my jersey pockets with pebbles.

What I really want to know is, does that dog sonar really work? Here’s one of the brands of “sonic” dog repellent:

That’s like Prairie Home Companion’s riff “Duct tape: it’s almost the only thing you need sometimes.”

I have to say that being on a tandem is much better for dog encounters, for a number of reasons. You can go faster and outrun a dog. The stoker, i.e. me, is free to inflict all kinds of self-defense tactics (see above) on canine offenders. You are quieter and sneakier, especially if your tandem is as well-maintained as mine. You can take a picture of the mean dog to display on your tandem blog (one day, folks!) and finally, your hands are free to call the sheriff on the beast’s owners.

Tandem gems from Raleigh

For some reason, it’s not easy for us to get over to Raleigh. On the weekends, it seems we’re either bunkering up in the vicinity of Saxapahaw to enjoy great bike rides, and goat burgers from the General Store, or we’re escaping very far away, like last week’s trip to the Bay area. Raleigh, the dominant city in the region, seems to exist an uninteresting nomansland between near and far. It doesn’t have much to offer that Orange and Alamance Counties don’t already have, so if we’re going to make the effort to get over there, we may as well head straight to RDU and fly away.

Unless we’re talking tandems. There’s no shortage of great bicycle shops and experts in North Carolina – probably a testament to the diverse and extensive conditions for riding across the state – any state that can claim “mountains to the sea” deserves a leg up over the top tube. However, Raleigh seems to be the locus for tandem riding. Raleigh is home to the southern cuisine-themed riding club GRITS (Greater Raleigh Intrepid Tandem Society). The focus for the locus is All Star Bikes at Quail Corners. I’m still re-acquainting myself with my re-adopted state of NC, and while researching dealers to find the kind of high-end tandem we’re looking for for our wedding registry, I found out that All Star Bikes is the closest by a long shot. A trip to Raleigh finally seemed necessary.

The store location in a non-descript suburban strip mall in the uneasy mishmash of business and neighborhood developments of fast-growing north Raleigh is more a comment on the realities of Raleigh city planning than the shop itself. While there, we got to chat with their expert wrench Terry, and long-time sales guys Jeff and Neil. They sell Santana and Co-Motion, which is exactly what you’re hoping for when you’re looking for the highest quality production tandems.

We got to test ride a Co-Motion Speedster, which is only the exact tandem make and model I’ve pinned my dreams on since my first ride on a tandem (a Co-Motion Big Al) back in 2000. The differences between the good ol’ Burley Duet and the Speedster are just about night and day. First the similarities: they’re both steel; both handmade in Eugene, OR; both are tandems. There the similarities basically end. I’ve always enjoyed the functionality, serviceability, and smart details of the Burley. It’s handling is predictable, and even though on the chubby side, I’ve often felt its weight lends it an impressive gravity – when the road starts to point downhill, the momentum it generates makes it feel like a muscular train steaming across the vast expanses of the continent. What I didn’t realize is that I could feel the same confidence in a tandem, and still feel nimbleness similar to a quality single bike.

This is so with the CoMo Speedster. We got to test ride the tandem along residential streets that actually offered a couple of decent hills by which to gain a sense of its climbing prowess and the feel as it picked up speed downhill. We also got the blah attention-demanding surburban experience of dodging cars exiting driveways and sucking exhaust and debris belched from noxious leaf-blowers. The CoMo handled these challenges and grievances as easily as Gatsby navigates a cocktail party. The Speedster seriously is about 15lbs skinnier than the Duet, but gives nothing up in rigidity or surety. The handling is much sportier, turning with the ease of a Panamian drug-running boat, as opposed to a container ship turning miles in advance of an iceberg. Sure, components that are 15 years newer are also a nice upgrade, but the real advancement is the slick handling and smooth riding. A high performance machine, the steel Speedster is also ready for self-supported touring, with all the right rack and fender mounts. Alas, the only thing missing is a pump peg.

Back at the shop, we absorbed some good tips from Neil, a dedicated tandem-rider (owning a carbon Calfee), veteran racer, and salesman for 25 years. Here’s some new things we’re thinking about:
-Cornering technique: the stoker should slightly elevate off the saddle, lean into the turn, and keep weight on the lowered pedal on the outside of the turn (the pedal opposite the turn) to achieve the lowest center of gravity. Our first experience with this is that this move has to be smooth, natural, and unconscious, as the concerted effort by the stoker to force weight down on the pedal is more upsetting than we usually experience.
-Disc brakes versus drum brake on the tandem: disc brakes offer an upgrade in stopping power over rim brakes, but when it comes to long, steep downhills, they’ll fade out. I’m thinking rim brakes are the most sensible to run, adding a drum brake set up to drag with a friction shifter for the rides in the mountains.
-Contrary to popular thought, it doesn’t matter whether the heavier person is in the front (usually considered best practice) or the rear. I was thinking it makes sense to have the heavier person up front since that’s the fulcrum of steering. But our whippy salesperson Neil, who’s “130lbs soaking wet” claimed to have no problem riding with a 300lb stoker. As long as the stoker is a smooth pedaler and leans with the captain, it doesn’t matter at all.
-There’s two ways to start off on a tandem. This is news to me, since I have always done this by having the stoker mount the rear and push off and start pedaling at the same time as me. The other technique, supposedly to be used for less experienced stokers, is to have the stoker sit on the rear with both feet on the pedals while the captain balances the weight up front and pushes off himself when ready to go. Even though the later is supposedly good for inexperienced riders, I can’t imagine doing it like that. Stopping at a stop light and balancing the stoker who doesn’t put a leg down seems unlikely to me. Of course, on tandem, you do just about all you can to avoid ever having to stop and put a leg down.
-Take “butt breaks.” Who doesn’t like the sound of that?
-Cut-up old inner tubes are better than bungees cords.

The field trip to Raleigh was eye-opening for lots of reasons. Not the least of which, of course, is that we have identified the bike dealer for our dreamed-of wedding tandem. We also got some good tips on rides around North Carolina. As great as Saxapahaw is, it’s good to get out from time to time.

Casual escape

Last week’s remnants of Ida brought strong wind and rain enough to keep us from the joys of tandem commuting. Each day we watched the clouds hunker over our office buildings, and in the evenings we listened to the thunderous rush of water rapidly rising over the dam here in Saxapahaw. We could hear the turbines running wide open, electrifying North Carolina as in the heyday of the TVA. We left our windows open to let the whoosh of water put us to sleep. The water rose all week, and we started to bite our nails as the water crept up the banks and poured over the dam:

Haw running wild.

Instead of waiting around to watch the water threaten to carry away our house – my reasoning, which doesn’t hold water, was that what we weren’t watching couldn’t be happening – we headed for the hills. The Oakland hills, to be exact. Thus the silence from this corner of blogland. We were in the Bay Area – the land of trolley cars, progressive politics, and fashionable hats.

Though the literal and spiritual home of Critical Mass, I have to admit that cycling in San Francisco didn’t look too appealing. Busy, one-way, three-lane streets. Speeding cars. Trolley tracks. Mad Hills. And still the cool kids are riding fixies. After a couple days of transit, late night dinners, and yes, fashionable hat shopping in San Francisco, we hopped over the Bay Bridge for Oakland. What we found over there was not what you usually hear about Oakland. When I picture Oakland, from the tales in the media, I see gangs and urban blight.

My experience of Oakland, however, was of 1) a great food scene: Burma Superstar was one of the best dinners I’ve ever had (samusa soup is unreal), and Camino one of the best brunch places:

Take your pick. I choose doughnuts...

2. Great biking and hiking. I was treated to a bike tour of Oakland with a Bay-area transportation planner. After 10 minutes of cycling through city streets striped with bike lanes, we were up in serious hills giving way to breathtaking views of the bay, bridges and Marin headlands (alas no pictures, since I was sadly not on the tandem with my stoker to document the ride), and towered over by magical red wood trees. This all within the city limits of Oakland. It takes just as long to bike out of little Carrboro to be in the rolling hills and cow pastures of the countryside here.

3. Seals. My honey got to kayak on the bay. With seals.

Our host transportation planner also told us of a fascinating “user-generated” solution to commuting on certain highways in the Bay area. I’ll call it “car-commuting 2.0.” My friend calls it glorified hitch-hiking. The official name of this unofficial practice is “Casual Carpool.” There’s even a website (probably a few) – http://www.ridenow.org/carpool/. Whatever you call it, the grassroots social practice grew up on its own as a response to the traffic planning measures adopted by the cities. To get across the Bay Bridge from Oakland into San Francisco, you either need to pay a $4 toll and wait in a backed-up line (30-45 minutes at times) just to get through the toll booth. Or, you can cross the bridge for free in an HOV lane for 3+ occupants and not wait at all (as you pass through the entrance, a photo snaps a picture of your car – the fine is hefty if there’s less than 3 in the car). The way casual carpooling works is that a few strategic locations have been identified by a community of commuters where people who drive can pick up people on foot waiting for a ride: the driver gets a free quick ride over the bridge, as do the people getting picked up. The practice has developed its own standards of etiquette (passengers shouldn’t strike up conversations or eat; you can refuse dicey situations), and the fact that a driver is picking up more than one passenger likely makes it safer than regular hitchhiking. Thus between official congestion-planning and -pricing, and unofficial community response, a dent is taken out of the blight of single-occupancy vehicles. It takes that sort of hurdle set up officially to make carpooling – generally an onerous and short-lived endeavor – into an effective and appealing tool. That’s about as harmonious as car commuting can be.

Make way for Iron Mans

This past weekend found us relaxing on unseasonably warm North Carolina shores. Aside from a pretty exciting tandem test ride we took at All Star Bikes in Raleigh (more on this development another day), we left our bikes at home and didn’t exert ourselves, unless you count scrubbing a half a bushel of fresh bay oysters as exertion.

This was the complete opposite experience from a couple friends of ours who happened to be flanking us on the coast. One friend, a fellow Saxapahawg cyclist, was running her first marathon, the Outer Banks Marathon. Another friend was competing in his first Iron Man-length triathlon in Wilmington, the Beach 2 Battleship. They both finished admirably, and I’m very proud of my friends, but I have to admit I’m happy with the way my weekend went – as in, nowhere.

I’m always astounded by the feats that the human body can pull off. I’m comfortable with long distance, self-supported bike tours and century rides like we did last week in Durham. Marathons are another ordinal more strenuous than century rides – 6 hours sitting in the saddle seems like couch potatoeing compared to 3-5 hours running. In fact, judging from this photo we found of ourselves during the Habitat for Humanity Century in Durham, it’s like we’re hardly riding at all:

Just coasting our way to 100.

Furthermore, Iron Mans (I don’t think the plural would be Iron Men since it’s a brand name, right?) – combining three righteous and healthy pursuits at ridiculous lengths (2-mile open water swim, 112-mile bike, then run a marathon) all at once-must actually take a year or two off someone’s life. Who thought that was a good idea?

What’s even more amazing is the media coverage of Beach 2 Beacon Iron Man. By amazing, I mean “amazingly bad, trite, and misguided”, or to put it another way, “typical.” In the luxury of our beach-front, pet friendly motel The Atlantis, we were also enjoying having TV, which is not a current fixture in these Honkers’ household. News coverage of the Iron Man came on, and what “amazed” me was that the focus of the story is to what extent the one-Saturday-out-of-the-entire-freaking-year that the race was held (this being the 2nd such race there ever) was affecting car traffic. Seriously? You have 750 athletes who have been training their bodies for this for months and years, pushing themselves beyond any fathomable understanding, and the media covers people talking about traffic.

Thank you News 14 Carolina for that incisive, human-element reporting.