The Deer's View

Later, after the deer had gone - where ever they go - I wondered up to where they had been and took a photo of their view. You can see it was a long way from the house which is alm ost hid behind trees and a grape view. To the right is an old barn that has been converted to a garage, and to the left is Jim's workshop.

Gunks Routes: Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a)

(Photo: Approaching the huge roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



This past weekend was just beautiful. It was autumn at its best in the Hudson Valley, with crisp mornings, followed by moderate temperatures and abundant sunshine.



In other words: perfect climbing weather!



I was psyched to get out for a day with Adrian, especially since this was quite likely going to be my last Gunks day of . Two of the remaining three weekends in November are already booked up with family activities, and who knows what the weather will be like on my few remaining potential climbing days this month. Climbing in December is always a possibility, but a remote one. So this really could be it for the year.



As is the case every year, there is so much left undone.



But this has been a year of real accomplishment for me as a climber.



I got in better shape last winter and once the climbing season got under way I finally got my mojo back. I began to feel more like the climber I'd been in , before I broke my ankle in a climbing accident. This new/old me felt solid, confident, and hungry for harder climbs.



As I've chronicled here on my blog, I started leading 5.9 climbs in the Gunks again. I led a whole bunch of them this year, for the most part with great success. My goal was to become solid in 5.9, with the idea that I could go anywhere in the world and jump on a 5.9 and be sure that it would be well within my comfort zone.



I can't say I've quite reached that goal. The kind of climbing the Gunks offers is just too limited for that. Certainly my four days of climbing in the Adirondacks this year demonstrated to me that I'm not a solid 5.9 leader if the climbing involves vertical cracks and jamming. I'm sure that if I went to Yosemite, to cite another example, and tried to lead a typical Tuolumne 5.9-- featuring long runout slabs and oceans of fragile knobs-- I'd have my ass handed to me there as well.



But I feel good about the progress I've made in the Gunks on its brutish overhangs and thin face climbs. I've tried to keep stepping forward while at the same time being reasonable. I am convinced that you can make progress, climb hard, and still be careful. So far it all seems like it's making sense, most of the time.



I had another goal this year that I have not talked about so much.



I wanted to lead at least one Gunks 5.10 before the year was over.



I didn't necessarily care if I sent it onsight. It didn't have to go perfectly. I could take a fall, I figured, so long as I protected the hard moves well and kept things in control. Even if the climbing proved too difficult for me, if in the end I felt I'd done things right and protected myself well, then I'd regard the climb as a success and something I could build upon.



All year I had certain candidates in mind, climbs that had a reputation for being soft for 5.10 and for having good pro at the crux, like The Dangler or Wegetables, to name just two possibilities.



But as the year wore on I started to think I'd never really do it. And why push? This year's goal was 5.9. Why not make 5.10 the goal for next year?



Then a few weeks ago I went out climbing with my eight-year-old son Nate. We were climbing with another dad/son duo I met through my kids' school. The dad used to be a regular Gunks hardman and his son, who is Nate's age, is also into climbing. I thought if we all went out together it might inspire my son to get a little more interested in climbing. (Alas, it didn't work out that way. Nate gamely tried a few climbs, mostly just to humor me, but he was not converted.)



We were climbing at Lost City. I'd never been there before. After all these years it was nice to finally go out there and check the place out! I didn't get to try any of the legendary climbs there, because I was too busy setting up 5.4's for my son. But I saw something that really inspired me: a fourteen-year-old boy attempting to lead Stannard's Roof.



The young man actually lives in my apartment building, though we'd never met before. (Small world!) He'd spent a few weeks this summer at a rock climbing camp in Maine and had recently led his first 5.9's in the Gunks. But today he'd elected to try Stannard's Roof, which upped the ante significantly. The route is reputed to go at "easy" 5.10, and though the roof is very large-- it requires getting truly horizontal for a couple body lengths-- the holds are quite positive, or so I am told.



The boy couldn't do it. He made several efforts, getting up into the roof, placing good pro, then climbing down and resting. He repeatedly got up to his high point, decided he couldn't hang on, and came back down. Eventually he downclimbed to a fixed anchor and retreated.



Watching him, I was impressed with his good sense. He didn't just run it out and go for it. He wanted to do it right and in control. And when he knew he wasn't going to make it, he backed down.



His effort on Stannard's Roof reawakened my desire to hop on a 5.10 of my own. This kid was doing EXACTLY what I should be doing. I resolved to find a 5.10 like this, with good pro and clean falls, and get up into it. Whether I succeeded or failed, I knew it would be good for me.



So when Adrian and I got out last weekend I was determined to find the right 5.10. Ultimately I decided on Beatle Brow Bulge. It seemed like one of the easier 5.10 climbs. It was historically rated 5.9+ until Dick Williams boosted its rating to 5.10a in his 2004 guidebook. It seemed to me like strenuous climbing, but juggy and unmysterious. I'd just have to hang in there and keep moving. And it looked like I'd find good pro out the roof, so that any fall would be into the air.



Most of all the route just looked awesome. The roof is HUGE.





(Photo: Grabbing the holds under the roof on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a). The real business starts with the next step up.)



Dick Williams lists the climb as having a first pitch consisting of 50 feet of 5.3 climbing up to a stance beneath the roof. I didn't see any point in stopping half-way and decided in advance to just do the whole thing in one pitch.



As I approached the roof it seemed to get bigger and bigger. My main concern was where I would place pro. I wanted something in the roof, not below it. And I wanted the piece to be out several feet from the wall, so if I fell I wouldn't slam right into the cliff.



There is a big block that sticks out like a thumb below the roof level. This block has chalk all over it, although it is not a necessary handhold. (It is a very useful foothold once you're in the business.) It appears a # 2 Camalot would go nicely in the space between this block and the roof, but I decided against using this placement. I was worried about the rock quality. It appeared to me that this block may not be well attached to the cliff. The last thing I wanted was to send a death block the size of a microwave down on Adrian.



Instead I found a great spot for a yellow Alien. (A yellow Metolius or yellow C3 may also work.) The cam goes in just above the two crucial first handholds in the roof; the spot is right above where my right hand is in the above photo. I was able to place this cam before committing to the roof, and it gave me great peace of mind as I started the moves.





(Photo: Getting into the roof! My right foot is on the thumb/death block that I avoided placing pro behind.)



One step up and I was really into it, fully horizontal beneath the big ceiling. The hands and feet were great, but it was strenuous. Immediately I reached over my head and placed a perfect red Camalot at the lip of the roof. I wanted to extend it with a runner but I knew the clock was ticking and I had to get moving. So I just clipped it direct, hoping it was close enough to the lip that it wouldn't create too much drag. (It worked out fine.)



Once I made that clip, everything was going to be okay. It was a piece off of which you could hang a truck, and below me was a totally clean fall into air. I could hear Adrian yelling his approval. "Yeah! Now go!"



And so I went, for once totally in the flow of the moves and not even thinking about the consequences of blowing it. The holds are great; there are no devious sequences. It's strictly a matter of hanging in there and continuing to move upward.





(Photo: getting over the big roof.)



Once I was over the roof, the pumpiness of the route really set in. It was still quite steep and after I moved up and placed more pro I started to worry that I might pop off. I stepped up again and placed another cam, then tried to shake out a little.



I decided maybe I should take a hang, just to be safe.



"Adrian, can you take?" I shouted.



But Adrian wasn't having it. He didn't pull in the ropes.



"Really??" he yelled. "It looks like you're almost there! Don't you want to keep going?"



"I'm just so pumped!" I shouted back.





(Photo: In the final pumpy territory on Beatle Brow Bulge (5.10a).)



But then I looked up and I realized he was right. The angle eased in another two moves. I could do this.



I got back to moving and in another couple steps got to a real rest stance. I was so grateful that Adrian hadn't let me take a hang. Instead of noble failure, I had sweet, sweet success. I had done it. I had led my first (alleged) 5.10 trad route in the Gunks, onsight. It was an amazing feeling.



I finished the climb as Dick Williams suggests, heading to the right as soon as I was level with a tree ledge with an anchor. We were using doubles, but it appeared to us that you could reach the ground from this first station with a single 60 meter rope. There is another station at the next ledge, up another 30 feet or so through dirty, low-angled territory. This higher station is attached to a much bigger tree, but you'd need double ropes or maybe a single 70 meter to use it.



As I stood at the station waiting for Adrian to join me, I felt a great satisfaction with not just this one climb, but the whole year. I am so lucky to have gotten out to climb as much as I have, and to have made real progress over the course of the season. I may get another day or two on the rock before is over, but if the weather sucks for the rest of November I'll still be happy. I hope I can keep improving and make this climb not just a peak climb for one climbing year, but a preview of numerous 5.10's to come. This winter I'll have strong motivation to work to make this 5.10 just the first of many.

Grandpa Ott Morning Glory

The heirloom 'Grandpa Ott' from behind.

Salty Lemonade for Cycling

A few people have asked about the "salty lemonade" I mentioned in the previous post, and it's really very simple: When I fill my water bottles before a long ride, I add a pinch of salt and also some lemon juice to the water. In conjunction with snacks containing potassium, magnesium, calcium and sugar (i.e. bananas and milk), this mixture helps replenish electrolytes lost during cycling, especially in hot weather - which in turn can help prevent leg muscle cramps and lightheadedness that some experience on long and strenuous rides. Several cyclists I know prefer this method to consuming commercial sports drinks and gels, and it works for us.



Some points to consider about the Salty Lemonade:



. Do not overdo it on the salt. What I call a "pinch" I have seen defined as 1/8 of a teaspoon, which seems about right.



. The reason for adding lemon juice is mostly to balance out the salty taste. The sourness of it adds a nice refreshing element as well.



. Some like to fill one bottle with a weaker concentration of the mix than the other, alternating between them depending on how much they are sweating. Having bottles that look different from one another helps if you're going to do this.



. On long trips where you know you'll be able to refill your water bottle, you can also carry single-use salt packets to add to the fresh water.



. If you have been advised against a high-sodium diet, obviously consult with your physician prior to consuming anything like this (including commercially available sports drinks).



. As mentioned earlier, salty water alone is not enough to restore electrolytes, so make sure to supplement with appropriate snack foods. Bananas work best for me in this regard, and they are easy to eat while on the bike.



While many cyclists thrive on commercial sports drinks, others prefer more natural, home-made solutions and this can be one of them. Please feel free to share your own.

Honey, We Meet Again

When a bicycle leaves you at a loss for words, is that a good thing? With hundreds of miles now on this Honey Cyclocross demo bike, I am leaning toward yes. Because I'm not exactly itching to give it back.






Last summer I was briefly without a suitable bike for dirt and gravel. When a local unpaved ride came around, a buddy lent me her Honey Cyclocross racing bike. I wrote about that bike here, then rode the Kearsarge Klassic on it successfully. And that should have been that. But months later, even as I happily rode my own bike, memories of that CX Honey kept intruding. In my first impressions write-up I described how "different" its handling felt from anything I'd tried before. As a wannabebicycle designer, this gnawed at me. What was it about that bike?






Enter geographical luck of the draw. Honey Bikes are local to me, theproject of Rob Vandermark whom I know through the Ride Studio Cafe bicycle shop andSeven Cycles. Last Fall, we had occasion to talk about the cyclocross bike I'd tried, and I struggled to articulate why I found its handling so "different."


At this time, a batch of Honey demo bikes was being prepared for the Ride Studio Cafe, and one of them was set up for me. The idea was along-term test ride and review:I would ride the bike until it became familiar, allowing me to articulate what I found so striking about its handling.In particular, we discussed how appropriate a bike like it might be for long unpaved rides, and how it compared to the 650B low trail model I was comfortable with.





The bike arrived just as a series of snow storms hit the Northeast, which made for some appropriate pictures of the "winter lilac" colour.



I should note here that the bicycle reviewed here is completely stock in everything from size and geometry to component group and finish. Honey bikes are not custom, but made-to-order stock bikes, available in a variety of sizes and option packages. This production method allows them to keep prices in the $2,400-4,000 range for complete bikes, and to offer quick turn-around. The bicycles are steel, with carbon fiber forks (though steel forks are also available). Models include road, utility, mixed terrain, mountain, cyclocross and more. All frames are handmade in the USA, the current series produced by Seven Cycles in Watertown, MA.








Honey bikes are offered in two types of finishes. The standard finishesare tone-on-tone, and so subtle that the logos and other markings are virtually invisible unless you stand inches from the bike or intentionally bump up the contrast in pictures to draw them out.For those who prefer a finish with visible logos, Honey also makes"team" finishes, where the panels and lettering contrast the main colour.








Like the bike I had borrowed last summer, this is a stock 52.5cm Honey Cyclocross race frame (they also have a utility cross model, but this is not it). The sizing figures on Honey bikes refer to the virtual top tube length. Because this bike was set up for me from the get-go, it fit me much better than the one I rode previously. The handlebar height and width, the stem length, and the saddle position were configured with my fit in mind. The brakes were routed right=front, the way I set up my own. When I got on the bike, everything immediately felt natural, and there is a lot to be said for this. With roadbike test rides, fit really matters.






The Honey was set up with a SRAM Rival group and TRP mini-v brakes. The brakes work excellently (more on that here), which was a great relief from previous experiences with cantis. And while I have a Campagnolo setup on my own bikes, I am also comfortable with SRAM levers and have no problem switching back and forth between the two systems.






As I see it, going with SRAM on a bicycle like this has several benefits. The main one, is that SRAM now makes it possible to use low gears with a road drivetrain and modern integrated shifters. Their new wifli system, despite the silly name, is extremely useful in that it allows for a 12-32t cassette. Paired with a 50/34t crankset, that almost gives you a 1:1 low gear, without having to do anything unconventional to the drivetrain. Unofficially, I am told that the wifli derailleur will also handle a 34t cog from a mountain or touring cassette, but I wanted to ride the bike with everything stock before trying out-of-spec configurations. As is, the SRAM Rival drivetrain has been functioning flawlessly ...which brings me to the other benefit - the value. While I love the feel of Campagnolo Chorus, I've been disappointed with their lower-end groups in the past couple of years. At the lower to mid range, I have to admit that SRAM groups feel nicer. In particular, I find Rival to be the sweet spot as far as cost to performance ratio.






The bike is fitted with Mavic Ksyrium Elite wheels and Continental Cyclocross Speed tires, 700Cx35mm. The tires were chosen for their versatility: The tread can handle most unpaved terrain, without slowing the bike down too much on pavement. I have found this useful.Off pavement, I feel comfortable with these tires on dirt, gravel, reasonably shallow sand and not-too-thick mud. On pavement, I do find them slower than slick road tires, but it's not too bad and I don't mind working a little harder on paved sections. These tires are also great in the rain and light snow. In bad weather, I find myself reaching for this bike.




Speaking of snow... Though I did not ride a lot over this past winter, the little riding I did was mostly on the Honey. Partly this was due to the tires: They handled unexpected patches of ice and snow on the road better than the tires on my own bikes. But partly it was also the handling. I will get more into this later, but when I got the demo Honey, fitted to my riding position, my first impression was that it felt like a toy - I was compelled to try stuff on it that I had not done on other bikes - like jumping over things and riding in snow. So I did, until eventually I crashed into a tree riding in the woods. My leg and hip were covered in bruises that took weeks to heal, but luckily the bike was fine!






Spring took a long time arriving this year. But finally by mid-March I started putting in some proper miles. As a way of ensuring I get used to the Honey's handling, for some time I rode it exclusively: Group rides, solo rides, paved rides, dirt rides, short rides, long rides - for 3 weeks straight it was all Honey, all the time. After that, I began riding my own bikes again (skinny tire road and fat tire dirt), alternating between the Honey and them.




For some time, I marveled at the handling every time I got on this bicycle. I am going to use experiential terms here. One term that comes to mind is "hyper hip-steerable." Maybe even "rear wheel drive." That is, the bike struck me as overly sensitive to movement at the hips, to the point that it almost felt like the front end was controlled from the back. For instance, let's say I was behind a rider and wanted to pass them. On this bike, I discovered a maneuver, where I could flick my hips ever so slightly while accelerating and "slingshot" past the rider in front of me in a tight, perfectly controlled arc. Maybe that sounds crazy, or maybe this is something everyone but me has been doing all along, I can never tell. In any case, it's easy and intuitive to do on this bike.




But unless I intentionally fling it sideways, the bike has a "tracks straight" feel to it at all speeds. Even when walking it I can feel this: Using the gentlest touch, I can easily steer it by the back of the saddle and the front won't turn or flop to the side. Riding it at excruciatingly slow speeds is easy as well; it really "wants to stay upright" and go straight.






Hopping over bumps, rocks and roots is unusually easy. The first time it happened, I simply saw a huge root in front of me, and before I knew it my front wheel was sailing over it and landing on the other side. I was not conscious of having pulled up on the handlebars. I can now hop over objects on other bikes too, but it takes more effort.




On descents, initially I found that I could not easily turn and maneuver this bike using the same approach as on others I've ridden. But I quickly learned that changing my balance over the saddle made it controllable in these situations. I still do not understand this part entirely, but my subjective feel is that I almost hang off the bike to the side in order to steer it on turns. Possibly, this is my way of compensating for not being able to lean the bike itself sufficiently.




All the characteristics described become less noticeable the more I ride the bike. But if I go even as much as a week without riding it, I immediately notice them again when switching from my own bicycles. It's not a matter of better or worse, but just a "Hey, this is different!" kind of feeling every time.






The aesthetics of the Honey Cyclocross bike are modern and sporty: thick tubes, unabashedly sloping top tube, straight fork. This look is growing on me - or maybe a more accurate way to put it would be "I appreciate it for what it is." I do love the winter lilac finish.The welds are very smooth, more or less invisible under the paint. And the overall look has a unity and harmony to it that makes sense to me visually.




The tubing is oversized and thin-walled. Pinging it with my fingernail, there is a distinct hollow ring. Riding the bike, it feels extremely stiff - though not in a disagreeable way. It feels light in motion, fast to accelerate, ever-ready and ever-awake. Despite the stiffness, the ride is not harsh. The jury is still out on the relationship between flex and responsiveness to pedaling effort, and I won't attempt to make any connection here. I will only say that I enjoy how stiff this bike feels.




I intentionally did not look at the geometry in advance, so as not to bias my impressions. When I did have a look later, I did not see anything too unusual. Longer chainstays and less bottom bracket drop than typical with road geometry; slightly higher trail. None of it seemed sufficiently dramatic to explain my strong reaction to the bike. Maybe it's one of those "the whole is greater than the sum of its parts" things. There is, after all, a lot I don't understand about bicycle design.






The one word I would use to describe the Honey Cyclocross bike is "fun." As in exciting, playful, toy-like. This bike really moves, and under a more skillful rider than me I am sure it would move even better. While I am obviously not evaluating it in that context, I can see how a bike like this would make a good choice for racing cyclocross.




As far as unpaved brevets and such, I think the CX Honey could work nicely for those who want a lightweight, modern, racy bike with wide 700C tires. Although designed for short races, to me it feels great over 100K distances. The main thing, is that after hours in the saddle I find it delightfully non-fatiguing.




Not being a utility bike; this particular Honey model is not built for racks or carrying heavy loads. Riding it with a full, wide Carradice-style saddlebag in the rear, I can feel the weight (or drag - not sure which). With a smaller bag that tucks under the saddle (like the Dill Pickle shown here) this is considerably less pronounced. I have not tried a bag on the front - though I've now been lent an Ortlieb system to experiment with, and will report back.






Riding this bike on dirt and gravel, I am as fast as I'm capable of being,and reasonably confident riding over most types of terrain I encounter. On pavement, I am slower on the Honey than on my skinny-tire roadbike. And compared to my low trail 650Bx42mm all-steel bike, the Honey is on average about the same both on pavement and dirt. One aspect where they differ, is if I try to seriously push the speed beyond my comfort zone - for instance, in order to keep up with faster riders. When doing this, I can push both bikes pretty hard, but on the Honey I feel less tired afterward. The 5lb difference in the weight of the bikes could account for this, as could the difference in frame and fork materials. On the other hand, when all is said and done I prefer my own bike's front-end handling. It is simply more intuitive to me, and on challenging terrain with twists and turns I am generally more relaxed and precise on it for that reason. Nonetheless, I appreciate the Honey's handling as well. I especially enjoy switching between the bikes and experiencing the difference, adapting to one then another.




It fascinates me to no end how two bikes can excel at the same task, yet ride and feel so differently.I will elaborate on this shortly, but recently I began working with Rob Vandermark on a special project. My experience with the CX Honey - in conjunction with my own bike - has been particularly educational in that context.




With unpaved riding increasingly popular, it's exciting to have choices for go-fast bikes with fat tires. The Honey Cyclocross bike is certainly worth considering - fast, fun, made in Massachusetts, and reasonably priced with lots of sizing options. It's been a pleasure getting to know this bicycle, improving my handling skills and expanding my horizons in the process.

South Dakota :: Sunflowers & Cemeteries

Monday, August 22nd - - The Joslin Rendezvous was at an end, everyone departed to return to their respective homes or on to their next destination. Though I was going to go further west, I first had to go east to take Babs back to the airport at Sioux Falls. There were several stops along the way as Babs had Chastain ancestors buried in cemeteries near the towns of Winner and Bonesteel.





This field of sunflowers was on State Road 44 southeast of White River.



And this field was further east, it seemed to go on for ever.



Babs is standing beside the gravesite of one of her relatives in Winner Cemetery. It was a very nice and well-maintained cemetery. In fact, we were both very impressed with the town of Winner itself.





The burial site of her Chastain ancestors in Bonesteel Cemetery. Some are inside the fence and some are outside... it's a long story! I'll just say that Babs has some very interesting ancestors!

Godspeed, Lucy 3-Speed!

Today I said Good-Bye to one of my bicycles, Lucy 3-Speed. I loved having her, but I simply could not keep so many bicycles in my apartment - or sustain the financial expenditure of restoring them. Given that I now have the DL-1 - my dream vintage Raleigh - the Lady's Sports was redundant and I had to set her free. But it makes me happy that she has found a new loving home!

I rode Lucy to Open Bicycle, where I met up with the lovely lady who will be her new guardian. I need to check whether it is all right to post a photo of her and Lucy here; they look great together. Amazingly, the new owner lives in the same city and state as my parents - so Lucy is in fact going back to her home town!

I attached this Basil wicker basket to the rear rack and transported it to the shop as well. It is a handlebar basket that I bought new but decided not to install on my Pashley. Hopefully it will also find a new owner who will love it. This was a big "De-clutter the Art Studio from Bicycle-Related Items" day. But what is in the basket, you ask?

Oh just a few vintage Brooks B72 saddles! I have accumulated these over the past year and they had to go as well - don't need 3 extra saddles! They do look beautiful piled up in the wicker basket.

I am happy that I've been able to let go of these things, because I really never wanted to become a hoarder/collector. I love bicycles and bicycle accessories, but I am looking for a few that are perfect for me, rather than for a "stable". Maybe some day, when I have a house with a barn and more money. But for now, Godspeed!