Badlands :: Where the Buffalo Do Roam

Wednesday, August 24th - - As I pulled in the Sage Creek Basin Overlook, I remembered from the sign at Hay Butte that bison reportedly roam this area but I hadn't noticed any. I drove on over to the far side of the parking area and was getting out of Van Dora when I heard a grunting, snorting sound behind me.





Turning around I saw a long line of buffalo, the first few were approaching the top of the bluff and were just a few feet away! They extended for quite a distance down the hill. I immediately got back into the van and put the windows down so I could take pictures.





The vast majority of the buffalo came up on the passenger side of the van but the one above and below came up on the drivers side, and oh, so close!





I think this one must have been the calf of the one above. They stuck pretty close to each other the entire time I saw them.





I thought this was the last of them...



So after they passed by, I gathered some nerve and stood up outside the van and saw more of them coming.





Others that had already come up moved slowly through the parking lot, some continuing on across the road. But some of them stopped to browse or scratch their bellies on the posts that delineated the parking lot.





They were of all different ages and sizes and colors. Just like people, bison have distinguishing characteristics too.













For about 15 minutes I was entirely alone with this herd of bison. It was incredible. The sounds they made were like nothing I had ever heard before – growling, grunting, snorting. This car was stopped in the road waiting for the buffalo to pass – it took about 30 minutes from the time I first saw them for all of them to get to the top of the bluff and across the highway. This one lone bison lingered for quite some time scratching his belly on the post then he (or she) too moved on. And all I could do was shake my head and say Wow! again and again.

(dis)Comfort Bike Blues

Only two weeks left until I return to the US, where the Co-Habitant, our two kitties, and our small flock of bicycles await me expectantly!



That is the good news. The bad news, is that I will not be cycling for the remainder of my stay in Austria. Apparently, I have managed to mildly injure myself by cycling too fast and too much (60-80 km rides) on a bicycle that was not designed for it. I was warned that this could happen, but my enthusiasm for the trails got the best of me and I did not heed the warnings. Now I need to take a break and heal completely, if I want to be able to cycle for the rest of the summer. Grrr.



So I guess this is Good-bye to the rental comfort bike I have been riding here for the past 2 months. We've had some good times together, but she just was not made to cope with my demands.



It's not that comfort bikes are categorically "bad" bicycles. Short trips feel marvelous, and they can handle a wide range of town and country terrain. But the longer the trip and the faster you attempt to ride, the more you begin to feel the limitations of their anatomy. Whereas the road bike is built for speed, the mountain bike for off-road use, and the Dutch-style bike for utility, the comfort bike manages to combine components of all three in a way that provides the full benefits of neither.



Clever Cycles has an excellent article that compares the anatomies of different types of bicycles and explains why comfort bikes can feel the opposite of what their name suggests:

Ergonomically, I think comfort bikes ...are sort of a disaster. They have the steep-ish seat tube angle of a mountain bike, and simply bring the bars much closer and higher... This results in a very shallow torso angle so the buttocks can’t help much with pedaling. You see riders of these bikes bobbing their torsos forward with each pedal stroke trying vainly to enlist more muscles to the aid of their smoking quadriceps. The saddles are appropriately broad to support the upright rotation of the pelvis, but all that broad tragic squishiness leads to chafing because the seat tube angle puts the pedals too nearly below the hips. A common compensation is to set the saddle too low, which only makes the other problems worse.

This describes exactly the problems I was having with the rental hybrid. At first it feels quite comfortable, as it does give you a fairly upright posture. But the longer you cycle, the more you feel that the seating tube angle, the handlebars, the space between the different parts of the bike, etc., all sort of work against you rather than for you as you attempt to go long distance, climb a hill, or pick up speed. And, if like me, you keep at it despite feeling the bike's limitations, the inevitable results are pain and possible injury.



If you are shopping for a bicycle, be aware that what are called "comfort bikes" do not have the same construction as traditional relaxed frame bicycles such as the old English 3-speeds and the Dutch-style bicycles.



It will be difficult not riding a bike for 2 whole weeks now that I've gotten so used to it! But no doubt this period of velo-abstinence will make me appreciate the bicycles waiting for me at home all the more.

Wordless Wednesday :: Receding Tide

Near Pensacola, Florida. March 1974.
Copyright © 1974/.. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman

Nisqually Icecliff

The weather was pretty much perfect on the upper mountain last Thrusday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Clear, cold, and calm. As the attached images will show, the Nisqually Basin routes (Icefall, Cleaver, Icecliff and Chute) all looked pretty good.

Nisqually Icecliff, on Saturday a solo climber successfully climbed the route. This marked the first summit for Mount Rainier in 2006, and a rather significant achievement for the climber, Hannah Carrigan.

Carrigan, headed out towards the Nisqually Basin around dawn, considering both the Icecliff or the Cleaver route. The Cleaver was tempting, but looked thin and icy (particularly near the high traverse up on the Cleaver itself.) The Icecliff also looked hard and thin in places, but doable considering the winter snowload. In the end, she opted for the Icecliff.

Carrigan reported firm snow and ice for much of the route. There were a number of difficult problems to negotiate. One section of the icecliff required commitment to both ice tools while traversing and climbing. Getting across the Bergshrund at the base of the cliff also required technical climbing. One notable comment was that slots, crevasses, and steep sections viewed from below, grew substantially in size once on scene.

After passing the technical secions in the Icecliff, Carrigan then ascended the upper Nisqually Glaciers to the crater rim and Columbia Crest. She reported a number of open crevasses on the upper Nisqually and Ingraham glaciers. Despite the deep snowpack below 10K, there still seems to be some gapping crevasses up high.

Carrigan descended the Gibraltar Ledges back to Camp Muir. An excellent solo journey on a big mountain in the winter, Good Job Hannah!

Gibraltar Ledges, a few climbers have reported STELLAR conditions on this classic Rainier winter route. They stated that the route has more snow and ice than normal. The traverse along the ledge, and chute were particular hard and icy. This makes for excellent climbing, but also increases the difficulty. Climbers should bring pickets AND a few ice screws.

Ingraham Direct, there is some ice going through Cathedral Gap, but nothing too daunting. Once past the Flats, climbers have been ascending the right side of the glacier up to the top the Disappointment Cleaver. Though no teams have summited this route, it looks as though the route does go.

Toddler Camping ..

Or should I call this Solstice camping? In years previous I would be looking for long one day trips to attempt on the longest day of the year. I mean just under 16 hours of daylight for Seattle. A trip up to BC should clock in with 15 more minutes if you needed it, but headlamps optional for a day with that much light.



Anyway, the three of us had no obligations for two days and opted to go camping. This should have happened earlier this year, but we couldn't get our act together. We made one camping attempt back in May in the backyard, but it was so bright out, and in the tent, that Mirabelle couldn't get with the concept of sleep. We took the van this time as it provides a darker sleeping space than any of our tents.



We opted for Snoqualmie Pass on the drive out as we were hoping to get a small hike in and a longer portion for her to sleep during. Mirabelle wasn't too much into a hike under the lifts at Summit West. She wasn't into the snow too much either. So after 10-15 minutes out of the car, we had a small snack and started driving. She slept almost all the way to Leavenworth.



We were in town and it was hot. Not scorching, but hot enough that we went to Riverside Park and let Mirabelle go in the Wenatchee River. She dropped/threw rocks in and then fetched them out for a while. The water was cold but she didn't seem to mind. Eventually she went all in and we took her shirt off. After a while we hiked around the park before returning to town to wander the streets and shops. After dinner we drove up the Icicle to 8 mile to camp.







At camp we settled in and had a walk over to Icicle River where Mirabelle threw Ponderosa cones in a bit before we headed back to retire for the evening.







Even with the ridiculous amount of light, we were under some big trees and able to get Mirabelle to sleep before the sun went down. (At least that is what I think.) I was asleep shortly afterward. Unfortunately, she arose shortly after the sun around 6:30am or so and wanted out. We got ready fairly quickly and had breakfast at the picnic table in our campsite before getting on the road to a hike.



Since we didn't wish to drive far, we tried the interpretive trails at the national fish hatchery. There was some interesting things to see in the hatchery itself including a stuffed black bear and bald eagle. Outside saw raising tanks and then watched some Yakima tribe members fishing for Chinook in the Icicle before heading out on the interpretive trail. We didn't get too far before we opted to turn around as Mirabelle was already showing signs of needing a nap. That was right after we saw a small animal that may have been just a mouse, but almost looked too small and a bit yellow. But I cannot imagine what else it could have been. Perhaps the yellowish coat is more of a localized variation with all the ponderosa needles lying on the forest floor?



We hurried back to the car and Mirabelle fell asleep on the way home. She woke up in the burbs, so there was no second hike of the day.

A Guilty Farewell to Vintage Roadbikes

Earlier this month, I parted with my remaining vintage roadbikes: a 1982 Bianchi and a 1978Francesco Moser. Both bicycles ended up going to people I know, and their futures look promising. The Moser will be built up as a geared roadbike again and ridden by a long-time local cyclist.TheBianchiwill get a make-over and may end up riding in theEroica. The bikes moved on to greener pastures, leaving me with only my Rivendell to contemplate lessons learned and a direction for the future.

I've been experimenting with vintage roadbikes since last summer, which has included riding other people's bikes and also buying a few for the express purpose of playing around with them. The bicycles I've tried in this manner have included examples of American, French, Japanese, English and Italian bikes from the late 1970s and early '80s. Not an enormous sample, but a nice beginner's crash course. Somewhat to my surprise, I found that I liked every Italian bicycle I tried, whereas the mid-tier French bicycles felt the worst. The Japanese bikes were comfortable, and I could see the roots of Rivendell's philosophy in their geometry and handling. It was very interesting - but ultimately unsustainable.

For one thing, even if a vintage bike is in good condition, it takes me a great deal of resources to set it up in a way I find ridable: Usually I have to change the brake levers, the handlebars, and - if I want to comfortably switch gears - the shifters. Not only does this require time and money, but it also ultimately changes the bike's character.



However, the bigger issue is that trying a modern roadbike this summer - and enjoying the benefits of its light, easy-to use components - has made me realise just how far I'd have to go to get the same level of performance out of a vintage bike. Assuming that I can find one in the correct size for me and with a sufficiently light, good quality racing frame, I would have to then put a modern wheelset and component group on it, as well as structurally alter the frame in order to make that possible - all just to determine whether the complete bike will be up to par. It does not seem like a practical endevour to me.

Considering the kind of cycling I have been gravitating toward, I would ultimately like to have three roadbikes: a fully equipped touring bike that is capable of going off road, a fixed gear bike,and a "racy" bike that is suitable for competitive cycling. The first I already have. The second I am finally working onafter a year of riding a conversion. And the third will be my next priority. I feel guilty that I don't see vintage in the equation, but practical needs trump aesthetic and historical interest. When I am older and have more time and money, I would love to collect gorgeous, historically significant vintage frames. But for now I would like to ride more, tinker less.

Winter on the Temperance and Cascade Rivers

Taken yesterday on my "weekend drive" throughout Cook County.

A Day in the Life of Jacqueline

When I initially borrowed Jacqueline, I was not sure whether I would actually use the bicycle for transportation, or just ride a bit in my spare time. But after half a day, I decided not to renew my weekly public transport card for the duration of my stay in Vienna. It is very easy to get around the city by bicycle - not just through the central touristy parts, but through Vienna proper. To demonstrate, Jacqueline will show you one of her daily routines.



At 7:00 am, we are off to the office via the Danube Canal Path - which functions like a cross-town bicycle highway through Vienna. It just so happens that both my flat and my office are close to the canal, so our route to work is pretty straightforward. Pictured above is the nearest entrance onto the path.



The Danube Canal is an offshoot of the Danube River. Both the canal and the river proper have bicycle paths running alongside, but the advantage of he canal path is that it cuts through the center.



One thing I like about it, is how green the water looks - especially in the morning. No idea whether this is due to reflection from trees or chemical pollution, but it looks nice and so I choose to believe the former.



There are some cobblestone stretches along the path, and the 28" Schwalbe Delta Cruisers on Jacqueline are just fine with them. But I have seen other cyclists get off their bikes and walk here.



Some parts of the canal path are woodsy and surreal-looking.



Jacqueline enjoys this sort of scenery the most.



Other stretches are more urban and take you closer to the main road.



That's okay too, but cycling here during rush hour will give you a nice helping of auto exhaust fumes. Have others noticed this problem in large cities? I have been told that automobile emissions in Europe (not counting former Eastern-bloc countries) are supposed to be less toxic than in the US, but my lungs seem to disagree. If anybody has more info about this, please share.



Heading toward the Southern edge of town, the scenery on the Danube Canal Path grows distinctly less picturesque. We are now cycling alongside the highway. And yes, that is a highway sign for Budapest and Bratislava. Bratislava (capital of Slovakia) is only a 45 minute drive away from this point. But instead of going there, Jacqueline heads to the office.



The landscape around my place of work is somewhat post-apocalyptic, but over time I have grown fond of it. Lots of interesting research facilities there, and I work with nice people. The total time it takes Jacqueline to cycle to the office from our flat is 20 minutes - the exact time it takes to commute using public transport.



I rarely stay at the office all day, but typically have meetings all over the city. On this day I had an afternoon meeting in a Cafe at the end of the Prater - the largest park in Vienna.



Lusthaus Cafe. Before you misunderstand what I do for a living - it's not what is sounds like in English. The name means "funhouse". This was about a 10 minute ride from the office for Jacqueline. After the meeting, we briefly returned to work, leaving in the late afternoon to run some errands.



First stop: the bank, in the city center, a 25 minute ride away. To get here, Jacqueline rode back via the Danube Canal path, and then along the Ring Road - which is another "bicycle highway" that loops around the city center.



Jacqueline then proceeded to the photo store in an adjacent district - a 15 minute ride away - to buy some film. She rode there mostly on the road, via a combination of bicycle lanes, "sharrow"-marked side streets, and unmarked side streets. The thing about "sharrows" in Vienna, is that they are mostly painted on 1-way streets against the flow of traffic. Yes, against. The speed limit on these streets is usually 30 km/h. This design goes against everything I have come to believe over the past year as a cyclist in Boston. What do you think of it? And could anybody comment whether Copenhagen and Amsterdam are the same in this respect?



After the photo store, Jacqueline was locked up on a main shopping street and waited a bit while I met a friend for coffee. Then we went to the grocery store Billa.



Jacqueline was proud that she could fit 1/2 week's worth of groceries and my laptop bag into a single pannier. (She is lazy and did not want to open the second one.)



As dusk approached, we cycled home - once again via a combination of roads, then the Ring Path via the route described here. All in all, I would estimate that Jacqueline did a couple of hours of back and forth cycling, and this was typical of how much I travel through the city on an average day in Vienna. Normally all of these trips would have been done using public transport. The travel time by bike is about the same.



I rode Jacqueline for transportation for the last week of my stay in Vienna. It was wonderful and made up for my bad luck earlier this month. I now feel like an idiot that I didn't just buy a bicycle when I lived here for longer stretches in previous years. Cycling in the countryside on my days off was nice, but I have to say that commuting by bike in Vienna is even nicer. And regardless of what the local shops might tell you, a 3-speed is sufficient to tackle "hilly Vienna". I am by no means in the best shape and had no trouble. Of course, the vintage magic of Jacqueline might play a role in that as well. But in any case - if you are in Vienna, get a bicycle and enjoy the city, whether you are a leisurely visitor or work at a fast-paced job!

Seatpost Setback and Related Matters

A couple of days ago I replaced the seatpost on my Rivendell Sam Hillborne with one that has zero setback, and the change has been interesting. Before I go any further, I will warn you that this is a continuation of the long top tube post. So if that one gave you a headache, please stop reading now and save your sanity! Or, continue at your own risk.



For those new to the concept of setback, seatposts come with different amounts of it. One of the things the setback does is move the saddle clamp back, thus altering a bike's effective seat tube angle. Say your bicycle frame has a 74° seat tube, and you buy a seatpost with 2cm of setback. Unless you counteract the setback by moving the saddle forward along the rails, your bicycle's effective seat tube angle will be 2° slacker, making it more like 72°. And you can make it slacker still by pushing the saddle further backward. By contrast, a seatpost that goes straight up with no setback leaves your frame's natural seat tube angle unaltered. Seat tubes today tend to be steep, so it is rare that anybody wants to make them steeper still. But with a zero-setback seatpost, it is possible to make the effective angle a bit steeper by pushing the saddle forward on the rails.



The other factor influenced by a seatpost's setback is the reach from saddle to handlebars. The more setback a seatpost has, the further the saddle moves away from the handlebars. Here it is worth noting that bicycle fit experts typically warn against messing with seatpost setback and saddle positioning in order to alter reach. Instead it is advised that one's saddle position preference should be fixed in relation to the bottom bracket. At least that is my understanding.



Getting back to my bike, ithas a 52cm seat tube and a 57.5cm top tube - the latter being unusually long given the former. Additionally, it has a 71.5° seat tube angle, which is atypically slack. In previous posts I explained that when I ride this bicycle, I feel as if my body is not sufficiently forward. The long top tube will not allow me to fit the bike with a stem longer than 7cm, and the slack seat tube puts me further back still.



Originally the bike was built up with a seatpost with generous setback, making the effective seat tube angle even slacker than its natural 71.5°. Eventually I replaced it with a seatpost that had only minimal setback, but even that did not feel as if I were sufficiently forward. I was reluctant to go with a zero-setback seatpost, because everyone I spoke to acted horrified by the idea. "Zero setback? What are you trying to do, turn it into a racing bike?" However, after the "long top tube" post I came to the conclusion that a zero setback seatpost is the most obvious solution. Far from making the bike "racy," it would simply continue the frame's already slack seat tube angle without slackening it further. Or, I could move the saddle a tiny bit forward and make the effective seat tube angle a rather normal 73° (as it is on my other two bicycles with drop bars). So, that is exactly what I did.



The welcome side-effect of the new saddle position is that the long top tube problem seems to be resolved. My reach has been reduced considerably and I can get a longer stem if I want. But even with the current stem I already feel myself positioned significantly more forward on the bike than before. The subjective sensation of this is greater than I would have predicted: I feel more in control over the steering, and I feel that the bicycle is distinctly faster to accelerate and to start from a stop. Although visually the saddle comes across as being too far forward now, its relationship to the bottom bracket is actually quite normal for a roadbike (off-the-shelf road frames in my size typically have 74-75°seat tube angles). I need to take the bicycle on a longer ride before I can say more, but I think this setup may be just the thing.



It's been exactly two years since I received the Sam Hillborne frame as a holiday gift, and this bicycle has given me over 2,000 happy miles. I've changed a lot as a cyclist over this time and the Sam's frame is quirkier than I initially realised. But I am going to try and make it work for me - hopefully learning a thing or two in the process.

Nene Way 8 - Barnwell to Wansford

With Marta. Weather fine, not sunny but warm. 14.44 miles, including short detour to Fotheringhay Church and shop in Nassington.





We started from Barnwell Country Park, crossed the old road opposite Oundle Mill and followed the Nene Way, which is pretty well marked, along past the marina, and locks, through some wide meadows, and over a footbridge into Ashton. The first part of the walk overlaps with this walk from Thursday, Aug 18,







Through the village and after a while we turned left at the 'Entrance Lodge' to follow the road which turned into a track, past a Rifle Range, past Tansor Lodge on an old Roman road and into Warmington. Coffee break (from a flask), part way along here.

When we reached Warmington village we turned right, then left coming out at the church, which is a big one.











































and on to Eaglethorpe with its 17th century limestone dovecote







After this we made our way under the A605, through a decorated underpass







and over the fields to Fotheringhay. We climbed up the castle mound

Two boats below Fotheringhay Castle mound

The pub does a good lunch, then we wandered around the church - there's an impressive historical exhibition in there, and it's much lighter than many churches.










The prospect of another six miles was a little concerning, but we've done over 12 recently. We left Fotheringhay on the Apethorpe road. The turning to the right is just before the speed limit sign, but easily missed. A track leads to Walcot Lodge, where we turned right again. About two thirds of a mile later, we were almost tempted to keep following the wider track which veers to the left, instead of going straight ahead. There is a Nene Way sign, but it's not immediately obvious. There's a short turn to the left, then right a little later, but once all this has been negotiated, the route leads down towards Nassington. We needed something to drink, so detoured to the local shop.

Back to the route proper, and onward to Yarwell Mill, with its boats and caravan site. These millstones are on the road leading out of the Mill.







We should have taken a path across a field at this point. Instead we continued to the road, and turned right towards Yarwell. Not much difference in the distance. From here it's about a mile across fields - lots of horses grazing,



and Wansford Bridge soon comes into view.










































Phew, Wansford Bridge - that's the Northants Nene Way done and dusted.