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OYB Pannier: a Modified Swiss Army Bag for Your Bike

The OYB Pannier is a small Swiss army surplus bag, modified via the addition of rack attachments and other features byJeff Potter - the owner and author of the project Out Your Backdoor ("indie outdoor lore and more"). I purchased this bag asa smaller alternative to the enormous shopper pannier I normally use. My criteria were durability, classic aesthetics, a trustworthy attachment system, a reasonable price, and a size just large enough to snugly fit my medium format camera equipment or my (very small) laptop.While I am aware that these same bags (without the bike-ready modifications) can be purchased from several other sources, I opted for the OYB version because I wanted the modifications to be made by someone with experience and because I wanted to support the "Out Your Backdoor" project, which provides some great resources for its readers.



Compact and boxy, the pannier is a Swiss military bag made of a thick, stiff, olive-green waxed canvas with brown leather trim and steel rivets. The OYB leather patch is a lighter shade than the rest of the leather on the bag, but this can easily be changed with a modest application of neatsfoot oil or even Proofide.I am not sure whether this particular bag started out as new-old-stock, or whether it had been used in its previous life, but to me it looks more like the former. The condition is better than I had expected based on the pictures and product description on OYB.



The closure system is simple and secure: That very stiff leather cord pulls out of the metal loop, and the thick leather strap lifts up off the loop to open the bag. For those curious, the imprint on the leather reads "Fritz Gerber Sattlerei, Goldbach."



The attachment system is a combination of metal hooks and bungee cords, with which the pannier is secured to the rear rack.The rack I have on this bicycle is theConstructeurrack fromVelo Orange, which is quite small.

Here is a close-up of the metal hooks. They are riveted on to the bag.



And here is a close-up of the bungee attachment. Together, these two attachment points ensure that the pannier does not sway or bounce against the rack - a good feature when you are planning to carry camera equipment. When the bag is not being used as a pannier, the bungee hook attaches to that small leather strip you see on the back of the bag - so that it does not hang loose. [Edited to add: I am now told that the bungee cord is supposed to go through that leather loop before you hook it to the bottom of the rack - oops.]



In addition to the rack attachments, the OYB pannier can be ordered with a number of other optional features, including shoulder strap attachments with a removable shoulder strap. I asked for the strap, because I pan to carry the bag around when off the bike, and this set-up essentially this gives me a camera bag and pannier in one. Other options include lights mounts, and a variety of other attachments.



To give you a sense of scale, here is the pannier in relation to me and to the entire bike. It is a small bag. Dimensions are listed as:8.5" tall, 4" deep, 11.25" wide (5.4 liters). Inside, the length of the bag is listed at 10.75", but I was hoping against hope that it would fit my laptop. OYB gives instructions for stretching the bag out with magazines in order to make it fititems of that size, and I will give this a try.If I can get my laptop to fit, I will be thrilled - but I am not getting my hopes upand am prepared to content myself with this being a camera bag only.



If it were not for the laptop fit issue, this would pretty much be my dream pannier. The mil-spec colour scheme is not for everyone, but I love it, and it suits almost all of my bikes nicely. The durability of military surplus items is superb, and I appreciated getting the bag customised by Jeff atOYB. This is a classic, versatile, and reliable little pannier refashioned by someone who loves bicycles.



edited to add: I have sold the pannier since the review, only because it was too small for me. I loved everything else about it.

Mount Rainier :: Narada Falls

Tuesday, September 14th - - For a few miles the road through Mt. Rainier National Park follows the Paradise River. A short distance before reaching the Paradise visitors center complex, there is a little sign alongside the road announcing Narada Falls.

It is here, at Narada Falls, that the sparkling clear waters of Paradise River plunge over the edge of a cliff and drop dramatically 168 feet. The Paradise River runs clear, not milky, because it originates from snowfields, not debris-laden glaciers.

The trail to Narada Falls is only two-tenths of a mile long, but it is a 200 foot descent/ascent! It can be (and was) wet and slippery.

For some early visitors, the power of the waterfall suggested spiritual connections. They named it Narada after a powerful sage of Hindu mythology who acted as a messenger between human and divine realms. [National Park Service Sign]

It wasn't the biggest, or tallest, or widest waterfall I've ever seen. But it was one of the most beautiful and graceful.

There is a hint of a rainbow across the center of the falls.
The “drapery” of water opens and closes as it falls. It was enchanting.
Constantly changing as you watch, it is dependent upon the flow of water from above as well as the cliff face itself and the plants thriving there.

Index ..

Adam and I had planned early in the week to head out to Index on Thursday. Initial weather reports were favorable for climbing, but not ideal. The forecast when we left Seattle in the morning was perhaps even less ideal, but still favored climbing with a predicted partly cloudy/partly sunny day.

Pulling into the parking lot there were low clouds and not much sign of the sun. We walked the thirty seconds to the lower town wall to see much of it wet, including potential starts to routes we were intending to do. I walked around for other objectives while Adam took a party separation. Godzilla was dripping and Princely Ambitions was plenty wet. I met Adam back at the base of Aries crack where I told him we might as well climb since we were already there. We geared up at the base of Aries crack hoping to continue onto Taurus after we gained the first ledge. Or at least we would see if things looked dry enough to continue.


I led off, finding the rock not thoroughly wet, but damp enough to cause a loss of friction. Upon reaching the crux I could not get enough traction on my left foot smear to make a move and slipped a few times. After repeated attempts with my arms tiring I gave up on finding enough friction to move upward. I lowered and we committed to setting up a top rope on the pitch by climbing the gully to the right.

I took the first shot on top rope and was now stymied by my inability to get a good fist jam higher up. After a few attempts I let Adam have a go at it. I told him his smaller hands might be the ticket as the crack was a bit too small for me to get a fist in, and it might be just right for him. Adam climbed on top rope and was surprised I made it as far as I did on lead. Then he worked the crux for a while before finally pulling the moves to gain the ledge. I came up and once again had to work on trying to make a jam work before I finally found the only thing that would work for me. A solid forearm jam/cam with my right arm gave me the needed hold to move up and complete the moves to the ledge. And some people think it is a good thing to be a tall, big handed climber?

Heading into the Aries crux

Once on the ledge I told Adam I'd like to have a go at the rest of Taurus. After getting a short distance up on the following crack, my foot slipped. I repositioned and tried again. I was able to make the next move, but the following moves had less positive options for feet and the crack looked a bit thinner and harder to protect, so I came down pulling my pieces and waiting for dryer conditions.

I told Adam I'd head up Great Northern Slab to reach the rap station. The climbing on GNS was fun and when Adam reached me I told him I'd like to lead the next pitch as well. After some slightly damp moves pulling around the roof, I was on the ledge at the base of the next crack. Somehow I did not see the easy way up and attempted to go up and gain the crack after a few moves by coming in from the left. This involved an awkward move where I was mantling from a horizontal crack while side pulling with my right hand. I couldn't manage the move and told Adam that "I am probably going to fall here." After a few tries I realized I could down climb a few moves and take the proper beginning to the crack and continue easily. That little episode left me a bit frazzled, and that remained with me the rest of the pitch. Although I did feel I climbed it fairly well. I brought Adam up and we rapped.

Adam on GNS

In typical fashion, I try to go to Index when it is a little too wet for Index. Hopefully I'll be able to get out there and climb when it is dry and then I will not feel too sketched by wet rocks and slippery feet.

How Upright Is Upright?

There is a tendency to group all upright transportation bicycles into the same general townie/cruiser-ish category. And when we see the description "upright bike" we imagine whatever it is that fits our own definition of that idea. But differences in what are commonly referred to as "upright" positions can be considerable. Above are three classic examples side by side: a traditional Dutch bike, an Italian city bike, and a French-style mixte - all three of which I have owned and ridden.



To a large extent it is the placement of the handlebars that determines how upright a bicycle is set up. But while the Dutch bike's handlebars can be lowered and the bars on the other two can be raised, it's not entirely as simple as that: The design of the frame itself assumes a particular range of positions; the frame geometry is optimised for it.






The Dutch bike is designed to enable a bolt-uright posture. The handlebars are high. The stem is so short as to be practically non-existant, bringing the bars even closer to the rider's body. The seat tube angle is slack. Altogether, the cyclist is "pushed back" on the bike into what almost resembles an armchair position. The epitome of "upright," this posture is not for everyone. But it is supremely comfortable for short trips and it allows cyclist to observe their surroundings from a greater height.






The traditional French mixte is typically more aggressive than other city bikes. The frame design is frequently not very different from that of a road bike - steep angles, head tube not much higher, if at all, that the seat tube, comparatively lightweight tubing. When built up as upright bikes, these bicycles are at their best when set up with long stems and handlebars at or even below saddle level. With the cyclist's weight pushed forward, the bicycle is extremely responsive and maneuverable. But the "upright" posture with this set-up can be quite aggressively leaned over.





Somewhere in the middle, the Italian city bike is really a variation of the so-called "sports roadster"design(the ubiquitous Raleigh Sports and Lady's Sports were examples of these): swept-back handlebars at or moderately above saddle level, combined with a short stem for a generally upright but slightly leaned-forward position. The seat tube is not as slack as that on a Dutch bike, but still relatively relaxed. The cyclist can lean into the bike if they wish to apply more power, or they can sit back. I personally find this to be a very versatile position - though others might call it "neither/ nor" - neither as regally relaxed as a Dutch bike, nor as maneuverable as a roadish French mixte.



While definitions of "upright bike" run the gamut, my personal definition requires that the bicycle pass the Camera Test. That is, I must be able to ride the bike with my large camera staying put on my back, strap worn across my chest, without the camera rotating to the front. I can't do it on a roadbike with drop bars, not even when I am on the hoods or the tops. But I can do it on all three bikes shown in this post, which makes them all different variations of "upright" to me. What do you typically think of as an upright position, and which do you prefer for everyday cycling?

How do they know?

There are a lot of technical problems with this picture. I've been trying to get a shot of the chickens when they are taking a dust bath, but it's hard to sneak up on dustbathing chickens, especially when a large dog insists on shadowing you.

They keep running away when I get close. Like some people, I guess chickens feel vulnerable in their bath. (Did they see Psycho too?)

So for now all I have is this problematic picture, too dark in one part and too light in another, distracting bits of wood that the dog's dragged into the area, and a picnic table sticking out in one corner. Sorry.

If you'd never seen birds taking a dust bath, you might think that they had gone nuts.

If there is no loose dirt available, they'll dig it up themselves (no lawn is safe).

They alternately flatten themselves in the dirt, and roll over onto their sides in it. They wriggle in it and use their wings to throw it up onto their backs. All while fluffing themselves up so that the dust can reach every feather.

When they've gotten enough dust on them, they stand up and shake it all off. Sometimes it seems like there's enough dirt in there to make a whole other chicken.

I've read that taking a dust bath helps with feather maintenance (absorbs excess oil) and keeps bugs away. Wild birds do it too.

But these chickens never knew a mother or an elder hen or rooster, having been born in incubators and shipped from the hatchery when they were just hours old.

So how do they know to take a dust bath?

Maybe it's hard-wired in their brains, a little instruction somewhere on the DNA.

Or maybe it's just obvious to them. Thirsty, drink water. Itchy, take a dust bath. Just one of the things that chickens are born knowing?

Happy Tears? Bracing for Winter...

At first glance, this might look like a "sad panda", but it's really not. It's just that today was 35° F and windy out. Riding to my destination I must have been a site, because tears were streaming down my face, then freezing in disgusting patches all over my cheeks. Mmmm!

So yes - Now I understand what cyclists mean when they discuss goggles for winter riding. I don't do well with goggles, because they mess with my spatial perception. But (some) sunglasses I can deal with, so I think I will wear them in the winter just as I wore them as "bug shields" last spring.

One thing I truly love about the winter is the beautiful light. Velouria thinks it flatters her colouring and gives her a sense of mystery. She also thinks that she will look quite nice once the snow arrives. What a vain bicycle!

Dramatic self-and-bike shadow. That lumpy stuff on my face is the tears - next time the sunglasses are coming for sure.

Overall, I am still trying to figure out how to be consistently comfortable cycling during the cold season. While I continue to cycle almost every day, I have to be honest: It does not feel as great as it did in the warmer months and I do not get the urge to go on rides (as opposed to using the bike solely for transportation) when it is below 40° F. Maybe I just need to allow myself to get used to it gradually? Also, I must admit that I am getting slightly terrified at the prospect of riding in the snow. On the one day it seriously snowed here so far, I was sick and didn't ride anywhere, but more snow is coming soon and I am going to have to face it. The posts on other blogs make it seem like "wiping out" on ice is not just a possibility, but an inevitability, and that doesn't sit well with me. I can't imagine not cycling during the winter, but I need to think of a plan and to brace myself.