Matters of Identity

Well... I thought that I could quietly change my blogspot username without anybody noticing or caring, but it's caused some confusion. So I announce it formally: Yes, I have changed my user name here from Filigree to Velouria. It is still me, and I did it to consolidate my velo-identities. I am "Velouria" on flickr and several other bike related e-venues, and it was much easier to change the blogspot user name than to change all the others.
Though the change exacerbates my already overwhelming identity crisis, I believe it is for the best. Plus frankly, it didn't feel right when some would refer to me as "Fil". If I were to have a male name, I see myself as more of an Armand, or a Victor, or perhaps even a Thaddeus. Thank you for understanding and enjoy your Sunday.

Busch Gardens, Williamsburg VA

Today we headed over to Busch Gardens. I've been here before, but it's been years since then. None of the guys have ever been here.

I thought this was pretty fitting:

We had a lot of fun together! It was a great day!

Bicycles and Curb Appeal

One aspect of a bicycle that usually gets omitted from reviews, but I feel is nonetheless important, is "curb appeal" - how noticeable or attractive it is to passers-by (who are not usually bicycle aficionados) at first glance. I've had bicycles in my possession that, while considered excellent and gorgeous by those who know about bikes, are virtually invisible to "normal" people. And then there are bicycles that barely allow me to make it down the street without strangers asking about them.

While it may seem like a superficial thing to care about, the "curb appeal" factor can be important from several perspectives. From the manufacturer's and retailer's point of view, bicycles that are appealing even to those who are not into bikes have the potential to draw in new customers - who may then grow to become serious cycling enthusiasts as a result of the initial lure. From the customer's point a view, a bicycle that is admired by others in their community can enhance their feelings of satisfaction with the purchase and can even result in their riding more often. Even from the point of view of cycling activists, bicycles that are attractive enough to draw in non-cyclists are good news for the obvious reason that they will get more people cycling, or at least thinking about cycling.

On the other hand, some may specifically not want a bicycle with the so-called "curb appeal." Getting constantly approached and asked about one's bike by strangers is a negative thing for those who don't like to attract attention. There may also be a heightened concern of theft to worry about.

Either way, I feel that the extent to which a bicycle is appealing to and noticed by the general public is meaningful and worth mentioning when discussing bicycle design. Have you noticed the "curb appeal" of your bicycle?

Summer on Top

During the past week of cloudy weather in the lowlands, rangers and others have been enjoying sunny skies and stellar climbing conditions on the upper mountain. Even with the forecast of snow and cold temps the past few days rangers experienced the very opposite above 9,000'. Check out recent reports on the DC, Liberty Ridge, Little Tahoma, the Kautz Cleaver, and the Emmons on our route conditions page. We'll try to stay on top of things as they change and we get new information.

Upper Kautz Cleaver/Success Couloirs

Remember your sunscreen and sunglasses even when you are still under cloudy skies! Come up and talk to rangers for the most current conditions.

First Thunderstorm of

Ah, the joys of spring! Even if it is a bit early, I do love the signs of spring. Perhaps the most exciting sign of spring (for me, anyway) is the return of the thunderstorm. Last night we had a whopper of a thunderstorm make its way over Grand Portage. This was a very localized storm, with brief but heavy rainfall and some medium-sized hail. Oh, and an awesome display of lightning! I was up late last night working on editing some photos when I started seeing flashes of light outside my living room window. At first I thought I was seeing things. I thought "That can't be lightning... it's only mid-March!" But, sure enough, as time passed I noticed more and more flashes and soon it was apparent that it was indeed lightning. I grabbed my camera gear and headed out to do some shooting.








I went to a location just a half-mile from my house, one that afforded the best view of the approaching storm and one that would allow me to photograph the storm before any potential moisture hit. After photographing the lightning flashes for about 15 minutes, I noticed something that is not often discernible with an approaching thunderstorm in this area. I could HEAR the rain and hail approaching! Before the storm hit shore the conditions were incredibly calm, not a lick of wind and the lake was smooth as glass. But, out behind the island, the hard rain and hail was hammering the surface of the lake. What I heard was an ever-increasing sound, a haunting WHOOOOOOOOOOOOSH as the lake was pummeled by the rain and hail. Soon the sound was quite loud and when the lightning flashed I could see that at any moment the moisture was going to hit shore. A good time to get back in the truck, I thought! So I packed up my camera and walked back to the truck. No sooner had I taken just a few steps when the rain started to fall. It was only about 100 feet back to the truck and by the time I got there it was pouring. By the time my gear was put away in the back seat and I was sitting in the driver's seat, the sound of hail was all I could hear as it pelted the sheet metal of my truck. I drove around to the other side of the bay to see if I could get a different angle on the storm, and it was barely raining just two miles away! Short but sweet, as they say. The rest of the night we had a crystal-clear sky exploding with stars.

SWPA ice climbing season continues (without ice)

This is by far the worst ice season I've encountered in my 15 years of South Western PA ice climbing. The 10 day forecast isn't looking so favorable either. This morning the Laurel Highlands were dusted with a little snow. Enough to motivate me to load up a full winter kit and set off for the woods in search of some new climbs. I figured if nothing else i'd get some mileage in whilst bushwhacking through the greenbriar filled jungles of Dunbar in "Fayetteville Cong".



I took a hike into a seldom climbed area named Rattlesnake Rocks. It's in the vicinity of Krahlick and Elk Rocks. Climbed mostly in the 80's by Ray Burnsworth and pals. It's a short crag that houses a fair number of climbs in the 20 to 30' range. No sport climbing here. All routes were either top roped or led trad. There are numerous moderate cracks and flake options for the aspiring trad climber. Rattlesnake Rocks got its name from the rattlesnakes that are known to frequent the area during the warmer months. I spent some time dry tooling across the base of an overhanging wall.

The left end of Rattlesnake Rocks is a great place for dry tool training

It's a great place to dry tool train with many variations and a nice flat landing. I was alone and climbed sans crampons in my mountain boots. After about an hour of bouldering and a few shots of the area I set off further across the ridge to see what I could find new. I was bushwhacking and scrambling around the hillsides. All of a sudden out of no where I stumbled into this little place.

Slabs stacked like dominos this newly discovered crag is

approximately 50' tall and has some very clean looking trad lines.

There's more crag to the right of what is visible in this photo.

The climbing looks awesome. I didn't notice any signs of previous climbers, but a few ascents may have taken place here over the years. Ed Coll, Ivan Jirak, Cal Swogar... There were a few folks that thrashed through the thickets, climbed what they could and moved on. Unfortunately many of the pioneers of the area are now deceased or have moved on leaving the history a little less than known. Either way, the routes look like a lot of fun and we're planning our first climbing visit this New Years Day. Here's a few of the plums that adorn this crag.

The first line I walked up to,

a seam system unlike many in these parts

Center section of the crag. Nice flakes and corners awaiting us

It was getting later in the day and I still had quite a hike out. I finished exploring a little and made my way to the car dreaming of the great new climbs I found. I had a great day exploring old crags and finding new. After all the time I've spent wandering the ridges and valleys of SWPA, the thing that I enjoy most is what I find next...

Not only new crags, but this is one of the things you might find in SWPA???

Balloons from many Countries

The International Balloon Fiesta is called that because they have many balloons come over from other countries to participate in the fiesta. This one was the only one I saw that I could really tell was from another country because I couldn't read the writing on it. I suppect Germany but I could be wrong.

Bem Vindo Porto! Welcome Oporto!

What can I say? I have fallen in love with Porto (Oporto in English)! I could not believe I have waited this long to discover her. She is a gem.



Transavia direct flight, Amsterdam to Porto



So I arrived here Friday night after a 2-hour flight delay. There were technical problems, something to do with the sensors of the plane and they have to be replaced. Everyone was already strapped on their seats inside the aircraft when the pilot announced the bad news. We really had no choice but to sit tight, complain and get bored.





Here in the car, Dutchman sending me off to the airport.





Flight delay, we were trapped in the aircraft for almost 2 hours. No where else to go. What to do? I ordered red wine and did FB and read BBC on my iPhone. Everyone was doing the same thing, busy with their smartphones.



Porto brand spanking new airport







I did not checked in my bag but because the plane was full and I was one of the last to board, they had no more space for me. So they took my bag and told me I will get it at the baggage belt. Not like!







I took a cab from the airport to my hotel, quick and easy. I heard that the metro is cheaper but with the flight delay, I ran out of patience figuring out how to buy a ticket and the route. I just want to get to my hotel ASAP and go out and meet Porto!



Porto postcards



Here are a few Porto postcards for you...























Tomorrow I am off to the Douro River Valley and its charming vineyards and villages.



Visit Period: March

Destination: Porto (Grande Porto), Portugal

The Inaugural Kearsarge Klassic

Will I ever get used to this, I wonder? These special rides, with their remote starts, carpools and road trips. I am easily excitable, and the anticipation is just too much. Once again I failed to get enough sleep the night before. The alarm clock rang at 4:30am and I went through the motions on autopilot: Shower, dress, make and drink coffee. Drag the bike outside. Gather my things and put them next to the bike. At 5:15am the van arrived and we were off. I buckled up in the back seat to keep myself from bouncing. We were becoming known as the Somerville Trio: Brian, Somervillain and myself. That morning we headed to New Hampshire, to ride the inaugural Kearsarge Klassic - a dirt road randonnee to benefit the Ausbon Sargent Land Preservation Trust. We learned of the ride just a short while earlier. "It will be like a rough, low-key version of the D2R2," somebody said. I signed up. Then I remembered that I didn't have a suitable bike.





But I did have some generous friends who offered to lend me their fat-tire rides, for which I was immensely grateful. After considering my options, I borrowed the Honey cyclocross bike that I wrote about earlier. It fit me well without having to make major adjustments and I was already familiar with the handling. On the downside, the bike was geared somewhat high - good for cyclocross racing, but not for long rides with sustained climbing. I decided that a comfortable fit was more important than low gears, and accepted that I'd probably be doing some walking on this ride. I used my own saddle and attached a saddlebag.





We arrived in New Hampshire just as it grew light outside. A thick fog hung over the farmlands and showed no promise of lifting. The forecast warned of "severe weather." We hoped for the best.





The event start was at the New London Historical Society - a small village preserved to reflect the life of rural 19th century New England. Registration was in a large unpainted barn. It was quiet. A cyclist here, a cyclist there. Three routes had been offered, and we were signed up for the Mid Circuit: 60 miles with 80% dirt and close to 5,000 feet of climbing.






The majority of the bikes present were of the racy variety. The only classic and vintage bikes were from the handful of cyclists I already knew from back home.





Somervillain brought his Shogunneur, which he typically rides on dirt.





Brian brought his pink Bianchi 650B conversion, which I really must photograph and feature here soon.






As far as handmade stuff, there was Igleheart and IF and Seven and a team on Sketchies, as well as my borrowed Honey.






But the majority were big-name racey bikes, as well as lots of Salsas and a few Somas. I saw only a couple of mountain bikes. The weapons of choice for most participants seemed to be cyclocross bikes with knobby tires or fat slicks.





Overall, participants looked serious. Lots of team kits. Circling on the grass to warm up. Not too much socialising.




Cyclists doing the longer route had an earlier start and were taking off as we arrived. I managed to snap a picture of the Blayleys riding away on their tandem. I was sure that I'd see them again at lunch or dinner, but in fact I did not - The way the timing worked out, participants would not see much of each other in the course of the day.





I changed into cycling shoes and secured the cue sheet to my handlebars (I will have to explain my cue sheet attachment methods in a separate post, since I know you are all dying to emulate the elegant look). The morning air was chilly, but there was also a humidity to it that suggested a hot day ahead. I wore a short sleeve wool jersey with arm warmers and stashed a rain jacket in my bag. I also had with me some food, bandaids, tools, a spare tube, sunscreen, chamois cream, insect repellent, money and of course the camera.






We set out just before 8am and our first destination was a rural convenience store, where we hoped to find some coffee and hot breakfast. The mission was a success and, making ourselves comfortable on the side of the road, we consumed our purchases. Just thenwe encountered Matt Roy and David Wilcox - of MM Racing and the RSC endurance team - who were about to get some food and begin as well. It was at this point that reality hit me ("These are like, really strong cyclists! What the heck am I doing here?"). But rather than dwell on it, I enjoyed my breakfast sandwich. And then we set off.






The first, paved, climb began almost immediately. And almost immediately I was cursing the bike's knobby tires and my genius idea to do this ride with a full saddlebag. As I struggled to keep up, the tires made that whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound that wide knobbies make on pavement, as if to mock me. And then, just as I felt relief upon cresting the hill, came the steep descent. We were not even on dirt yet, but already I began to understand what this place had in store for me. And that's when I finally started to feel just a little bit nervous. As I barreled downhill toward a stop sign before a large intersection, I also recalled that my braking power on this bike was, shall we say, suboptimal. And just then the cue sheet instructed us to turn left, onto a blissfully traffic-free dirt road.






It is hard to describe the pleasure of riding for miles and miles and miles without seeing pavement. I did not really fathom what this was like until the D2R2 and the Kearsarge Klassic. I couldn't have, as we simply have nothing like this back home. Where I live on the outskirts of Boston, you have to cycle for 10-20 miles just to get to a 3-6 mile stretch of dirt - usually a trail that will be either too tame or too technical to be truly enjoyable. But here in New Hampshire, these were actual roads we were riding on that just happened to be unpaved - an entire network of roads. Winding, hilly, forested, deliciously remote. Dirt roads.It seems like a simple enough concept, but only through experience was I truly able to grasp it. All through the ride I was thinking "This is so good, so good!" I did not want it to end.




The first 8 or so miles of the ride passed serenely as we warmed up on some rolling hills and absorbed the novelty of the scenery. This was about the time I usually start to feel energetic, and with this energy I attacked the next climb, enjoying the slippedy-slidey feel of the tires on dirt.






The texture of the roads varied throughout the route. Some roads were smoothly packed dirt. Others were covered with what cannot even be called gravel I don't think, but more like very large loose rocks. None of my pictures really capture this particular texture, but I am sure there is a term for it; others on the ride were talking about how rough it was. This put a damper on my fun at around mile 9, when we were faced with a steep descent on a road with this loose rocky texture. As soon as I started descending this stretch, I nearly peed in my pants from the suddenness with which the bike picked up speed while simultaneously threatening to fishtail out of control. Large stones were flying all over the place, with the bike both slicing through them and skipping off of them as I tried desperately to steer it along the winding road. I think I went into shock, so beyond my ability was this descent. When we reached a flatter section, I stopped and asked my riding partners to go on ahead of me. "Go ahead, I'll catch up to you at lunch. I'm going to be stopping to take photos." While it's true that I wanted to ride on my own for a bit and photograph the scenery, my more immediate concern at that moment was not crashing into them. If I was not confident I could control the bike, it was irresponsible to ride with others, I reasoned.




Now alone, I contemplated the descent ahead. Just then, my friend Jim and a couple of his buddies rode past, astride their shiny Sketchy bikes. They must have had a good laugh at the sight of me standing there, shell shocked from the previous descent and staring wild-eyed at the next one. "You'll be fine!" yelled Jim, and then added something about brakes. Either to use them or not to use them, or to use them in a specific way - I could not hear. I stood there for a few more minutes, until finally I just got tired of it. "Oh #@^% it," I thought, pointed the bike downhill and pushed on the pedals. My attitude at this point can best be described as "surrender." And maybe because of that, I relaxed and suddenly the bike felt as if it was not only riding itself, but teaching me how to hold my body upon it so as not to interfere with it riding itself. By the end of this, I developed an intuitive feel for how to counteract the fishtailing and how to steer around bends. It was an experience that somehow felt both calm and euphoric simultaneously. And before I knew it, it was over.






The dirt smoothed out and the long hills gave way to rollers. I followed the cue sheet along dirt road after dirt road. And then I began the killer of a climb to the first rest stop. Appropriately called Burnt Hill Road, this one mile stretch was so steep, that when I finally could not push the gears anymore and got off to walk the last bit, even the walking was tough. At the top, a meadow awaited with a picturesque view of the mountains which I forgot to photograph in the midst of talking to the rest stop volunteer. To my embarrassment, he informed me that I was the last one of the Mid Circuit group to be coming through the rest stop. I had no idea that anyone was keeping track! The description of the ride listed the times during which the stops would be open, and I was well within the limit. For me this ride was really just a photo expedition with some challenging terrain thrown in, but now I realised that more riders than not were treating it as a race. I decided to minimise my photo-stops from now on and cycle straight to lunch - which I did, albeit with a brief detour due to misunderstanding the cue sheet.






When I found the lunch stop along the main road, it was the same deal as the rest stop. It was early, but nonetheless I was last and they had already packed up. I guess I expected something similar to the D2R2, with everyone hanging out for hours before moving on. It certainly could have been like that, as we had loads of time before the event cutoff and only 20 miles to go for the Mid Circuit. I guess the timing of the various riders passing through was not in sync. But myfriends were there waiting for me, and we moved on almost as soon as I arrived to cycle the last segment of the route together.






After lunch there was initially a deceptive feeling that the rest of the ride would be easy. After all, we had less than 20 miles to go. Neither of us was feeling tired after the 40 miles of the ride we'd done thus far. We enjoyed the dirt roads and discussed the scenery.New Hampshire's rural areas are noticeably different from Vermont's - less manicured, rougher, spookier. I liked that very much about this ride.





Though the day had gotten quite hot earlier, now there was a breeze and the skies were overcast - suggesting that perhaps we ought to take that "extreme weather" forecast seriously. We were doing well as far as speed until we came upon this... never-ending wall of a hill. This picture does not do it justice, since I could not possible photograph the worst of it while continuing to cycle, nor could I capture the endlessness of it. It just... kept going, at pretty much the same steep grade throughout, for several miles. I mashed for as long as I could, but did get off the bike a couple of times, unable sustain it for quite that long. Still, I made it. And upon reaching the top, we saw the indefatigable Jon Doyle and friends, on their way to the finish at the end of the longer route. We rode with them for a total of maybe 5 minutes before getting dropped on the final stretch of crazy rock-strewn descents.






This series of descents was actually worse than what I had scared me so much at the beginning of the ride, but now I took it more calmly. In addition to the chunky loose rocks, there were washboards here - ridges over which the bike will skip wildly as the rider holds on for dear life. I got through it all, and in closer proximity to other riders this time. I felt the danger and the need to be careful, but no longer the fear. My hands did begin to hurt toward the end from modulating the brakes, but that was the extent of the damage I suffered on this ride.






The rain held off for as long as it could, but finally came down in the very final stretch - and when it did, it did not hold back. Thankfully, by this time we were just a few miles away and completing the final paved climb toward the finish. I got off the bike to turn on my tail light and put on my rain jacket, walked the bike a bit to rest my legs, then got back on and continued to mash, bathing in cool rainwater. I rolled up to the finish euphoric and delirious - along with Brian who stayed by my side through the last rainy mashy stretch. Somervillain was under the barn's awning, off his bike and ready to snap pictures: Exhibit A and Exhibit B. There is also an "epic" shot of all three of us, resembling happy wet mice.






At the finish, the nice volunteers served five different kinds of chili and corn bread, which we gladly sampled.






After changing into dry clothes, we took silly pictures of each other and loaded up the bikes back onto the van.We did not see many other cyclists at dinner - everyone more or less started and finished on their own timeline, had a quick dinner and left. Other cyclists were still en route and would do the same once they finished. We were a little surprised that there was not more of a social scene at the finish, but ultimately it didn't matter. The ride was fantastic.





Speaking as someone relatively new to riding on dirt roads, some parts of the Kearsarge Klassic were well outside of my comfort zone. A couple of the descents were downright terrifying and overcoming that was the biggest challenge. Despite my lack of low gears, I did not mind the climbing and only had to walk a few stretches. My legs didn't feel great after all the mashing, but two days later they seem fully recovered, so all is good. I experienced no pain during or after the ride, and very little tiredness. I am grateful to have managed tocomplete the Mid-Circuit course without crashes or mishaps, and in the fine company of Brian and Somervillain.






As far as bikes, I know that I've got to stop borrowing them to do these rides. So I am working on getting one of my own. Intuitive handling, wide tires and low gears is really what I'm after and there are some excellent stock options out there nowadays.






The Kearsarge Klassic is an event I would love to see develop over the years. The route was outstanding, the volunteers were wonderful, the area felt genuinely welcoming to cyclists. In comparison to the D2R2, this was a smaller and quieter event, with not so much of a festival atmosphere around it. The area is more remote, and the feel of the landscape is overall quite different. I feel very lucky indeed to have taken part in both events this summer. Many thanks to the New Hampshire Cycling Club and the Ausbon Sargent Land Preservation Trust for putting together the Kearsarge Klassic and inviting us to explore your beautiful dirt roads.


Full picture set from the event here. Also check out Somervillain's pictures here.