As you may have inferred from the dearth of personal posts and new pictures, there has not been a great deal of cycling lately. But suddenly, yesterday: a thaw. A cursory glance outside suggested that the streets hadsomewhatcleared of snow, and so I eagerly dragged out the bike. But what was meant to be a productive day, became instead a frazzled misadventure.
Liberated from the heaps of snow under which it's sat for over a month, my entire street now looks like it's being dug for trenches. I am amazed that this could happen over the course of a single winter, especially since they'd just recently repaved it. There is barely a foot of road where the asphalt is not broken, and it's nearly impossible to cycle through what is essentially one big ditch.
Soon I was on the main road, which has bike lanes in both directions. That is the bike lane in the picture above. When the blizzards were in full force, it was understandable that the bike lanes were not cleared. The whole town was covered in yards of snow, and I don't think bike lanes deserve special treatment compared to traffic lanes and sidewalks. But they do deserve
equaltreatment, and for the past couple of weeks they have not been getting it, as far as I can see. Everything except for the bike lanes is now cleared.
After a couple of swerves and dodges, I decided to get out of the bike lane altogether and cycle on the road. The drivers thought I was insane. Apparently, they are no longer sympathetic to cyclists being in the traffic lane, because the conditions aren't harsh enough to evoke the "winter weather mode of politeness." I got a couple of "what are you doing??" gestures through rolled down windows, and my feeble attempts to point at the slush and ice in the bike lane elicited only blank stares. The bike lane looked fine to them - at least fine enough to make it no longer acceptable for me to be out in the traffic lane. After this happened a couple of times, I gave in. I didn't want to be right. I just wanted to get where I needed to go without arguing with every third car that passed me. So I got back in the bike lane. And that's when it happened: My first near-accident.
I don't have pictures of what the spot looked like, but it was similar to the watery area you see behind the bike here. I was cycling along a more or less clear portion of the bike lane, when suddenly I approached what looked like water with some slushy edging to it. It was getting dark at this point, and I considered that the water might in fact be covering a layer of ice. But by the time this thought entered my mind, I had a choice to either brake suddenly, swerve around it, or go through it. Looking over my shoulder, there was no room to swerve. And braking seemed like a bad idea in that particular spot. So I went through it. There was indeed ice underneath the water, and the bike's reaction surprised me. It did not slide out from underneath me or flip over upon hitting the ice, but remained upright while "skating" in a zig-zag, much like a car would on an icy road. Incredibly, I kept my balance and tried to contain the zig-zagging within the bike lane, as there was a steady flow of cars to my left. It seemed to me that this went on forever, but in all likelihood it was probably over in less than 10 seconds. I looked back afterward, and the ice-watery stretch was a quarter of a block long. I feel comfortable classifying that as a safety hazard.
I don't mind admitting that the experience left me a bit shaken, and I decided to turn back before reaching my intended destination. I switched on my lights and cycled on the road again, not caring whom I was inconveniencing and how they chose to express that. Then I stopped by a shop near my house to get some olives.
Not having taken my pannier along, I put the olives in a paper bag and secured the package via "rat-trap" - which made me think about rack design again. It is surprising to me that the
Gazelle rack, which is rated for a huge amount of weight, has no provisions for bungee cord attachment. I don't really trust these rat trap thingies.I also have mixed feelings about "cafe locks." They are heavy, they are not always easy to use, and you can hurt your fingers if they get in the way of the lever popping back up when the lock is released - which is exactly what happened after my olive purchase.
I arrived home without further incident, albeit trailing olive brine from the rat trap having pressed into the container. A notification of a missed package greeted me with a malicious grin, as I removed the leaking packet from my bike rack and prepared to drag the
Gazelle up the stairs. A productive afternoon it was not.
But surely there are lessons to be learned from this. The lure of the first thaw is not to be trusted? Water-covered ice is more treacherous than packed snow? Don't let drivers bully you into a bike lane that you feel is unsafe? Yes, all of those certainly seem to fit, but somehow I don't feel a whole lot wiser after the experience. What exactly am I supposed to do next time, cycle on the road and be shouted at the whole way? Or stay off the bike until the city finally decides to clear the sides of the roads? Neither is an appealing option.
I am not a summer person and will take the cooler temperatures of autumn and spring any time. But one thing I will miss about the warm days, is being able to eat outdoors with our bicycles. Remarkably, this has been possible to orchestrate at most of our favourite restaurants and cafes. But considering how quickly the temperatures are dropping, the days of dining "au velo" are numbered.
Here Marianne and Miles stand in the alleyway of a Harvard Square cafe, right behind our table. No doubt this is one of their last outdoor dining experiences of .
Enough people have asked me about this now that I thought it worth writing about: How do I put a toe down in traffic while remaining on the saddle, and also manage to get full leg extension on the downstroke? I will try to explain.
First off, let me clarify that I get "more or less" full leg extension, and obviously my leg would be even straighter if I had the saddle higher. So there is a bit of give and take to it. But the idea that your leg needs to be arrow-straight on the downstroke with the toe on the pedal and the heel raised, is not one that everyone subscribes to - especially not cyclists in cities where riding a bike for transportation is common. In Vienna, I would say that about half the cyclists I saw had their saddles adjusted so that they could touch the ground with a toe. Based on the pictures here, this seems to be the case in Copenhagen as well. When riding in cities with frequent intersections and stop signs, it can be tedious to get on and off the bike every 3 minutes. Being able to put a toe down makes things easier.
Another point, is that some bicycles' geometries work better for this than others: Typically, Dutch-style city bicycles have very relaxed seat tube angles, which increases the distance between the saddle and the pedals while keeping the saddle height constant. A lower bottom bracket helps as well, though not as much as a slack seat tube. You can watch this video of Dottie starting and stopping on her bike to get a better idea of how this works on a Dutch bike.
Finally, this may not be sufficiently noticeable in pictures, but I lean my bike to the side in order to reach the ground with a toe. I also keep my other foot on the pedal for balance. I cannot reach the ground with both toes, and I cannot even really reach with one toe unless I lean. This is something that becomes instinctive if you do it often enough. Alternatively, you could set the saddle lower. I've basically raised mine as far as I possibly can, while still managing to reach with one tip-toe while leaning.
I'm not embarrassed in the least that we were so geeky excited over it, because it is cool. Really, really cool to be this close to elk. We're asking Elijah what he thinks and making a big deal about it. He's not real impressed. Then we realize that he can't see from way down there. He was a little more excited when I put him on my shoulders.
Then Ashleigh and I noticed that way on the other end of this place there appeared to be a group of people doing something with a group of animals. We say that maybe the elk are closer to the fence down there and people are getting to feed them or something. Because Nathan can be a know it all, he says nah...those are deer. We squint and look again and say...uh...I don't think those are deer. If they are, those are some monster deer or something because they are big. And the guy at the office said we could feed them crackers sometimes and we can't do that from here. But we might be able to do it from there. Because I can be pushy, I say...let's go!
I'm so glad we did because this is what happened there.
In all of about 5 seconds flat Elijah transformed from boy to warrior/man-child/great and mighty hunter. Or something like that. I half expected him to start making Tim Allen noises or something. It was awesome!
Nathan was trying to help him and he did the teen hand wave that means Pfffttt...I got this one. I am boy, hear me roar! Were the elk large you might ask?
Yeah, you could say that! Dude rocks is all I have to say!
On fist impression the bike looked nice enough (though for some reason the shop fitted it with this strange basket). The bicycle is all silver, including fenders, chaincase and dress-guard.I like silver bikes and the loop-frame looked classic and elegant.
But a closer examination gave me a different perspective.Theframe is partly welded (as opposed to lugged), and the welds are kind of messy. Unicrown fork, too.
Seat tube.
And the "loop" connector. Now, some may be reading this and thinking "So what? Most modern bicycles are welded." True enough. But from a classic Dutch bike that advertises the "old" aspect of Dutch bikes, I would expect a more traditional frame construction. 
The closer I examined the Batavus Old Dutch, the more details I noticed that made it look cheaply made. The cable guides were plastic clip-ons that were starting to come off in places. The pedals and bell felt flimsy and loose. The chaincase was made of a vinyl cloth-like material apparently prone to yellowing and tearing (as it had both yellowed and torn... and this bike was a floor model that had never seen hard use).
I know that some people are afraid to venture off road on road tires, but you might be surprised how versatile a good road tire can be.
We were cycling along the coast in Wellfleet, Mass., when we came upon this spectacular fire road.
The sand road, which is no more than a narrow trail in some stretches, runs trough several miles of dunes and saltwater marshes. You can see the depth of the sand here by the tire tracks on the left and the foot prints on the right.
There were no other cyclists on the trail and at first we did not think that our bicycles could handle it, but apparently they could. We rode at a slow and even pace without incident, enjoying the gorgeous views that were inaccessible from the road.
We both have 32mm tires on our Motobecanes: mine are Panaracer Pasela Tourguards and his are Continental Ultra GatorSkins. Both of these have good kevlar protection and are pretty fast on the road. Great to know that they perform off road as well. The above photo gives a pretty good sense of the depth of the sand we were able to cycle through. If you have never encountered sand on a bicycle before, the thing to keep in mind is that you should avoid making sudden or sharp turns. If you need to turn, make it a very wide turn and do it smoothly and gradually.
Here is a deeper pile of sand where we had to stop and walk the bikes (or in my case, push the bike forward with my feet). There were a couple of these patches, but not many.
As the trail wound closer to the water's edge, the sand became increasingly wet and covered in shards of sea shells.
Here is a close-up. We rode through that too.
I was worried that the sea shell shards might puncture our tires, and here I am yelling something to that effect. But in the end we decided to go through with it, and 
The tires emerged filthy, but intact.
Cycling through the sand felt wonderful, especially since it gave us access to places that would otherwise have gone unexplored. One does not necessarily need a mountain bike just to go on some fire trails, even if they involve dunes and marshes. Invest in good tires with kevlar protection and don't underestimate your roadbike!