International Woman's Day - On Bicycle

[image via Miami University Russian Studies Department]

In honor of March 8th, International Woman's Day, I give you "Collective Farm Woman on Bicycle" by my favourite Soviet painter, Alexander Deineka.

["Woman Riding a Bicycle with Grasses" by Jerry Cooke ]

... and a real Soviet "commuter" farm woman from 1960. Too bad this holiday is neglected in the USA. In Vienna I got flowers!

Small Tent Rocks

All over the Jemez Mountains are pointed rocks like these. Most are bigger than this. They are called tent rocks but to me they should be called teepees.

Traveling from Dublin to the Antrim Coast, with Luggage and a Brompton

I am staying in a remote area on the Antrim Coast in Northern Ireland, near the town of Ballycastle. Getting here from the suburbs of Dublin was quite something, though very much worth it in the end. I had with me three pieces of luggage: A suitcase on wheels, my fully folded Brompton bicycle sheathed in a cloth cover, and a Carradice City Folder bag that can also be carried as a shoulder bag. I am an average sized female with below-average upper body strength, and lugging these 3 things around on my own through the various segments of the trip was doable. I rolled the suitcase in my left hand, carried the Carradice across my chest messenger style, and carried the Brompton by the frame in my right hand. This last part was the most difficult for me. The Brompton weighs over 20lb and I can only carry it in one hand for so long, especially if I am also dragging other things at the same time. But again, doable.




As is probably obvious by the rolling suitcase, this is not the sort of trip where I planned to ride to the train station and to my destination upon arrival. I am not touring, but rather traveling with a bike, which I intend to use once I settle in. I will be here for a while, staying in the same place the entire time, and so I wanted to be comfortable, have plenty of clothes to change into, and have all the camera equipment I wanted with me. I thoroughly researched the transportation situation in advance and determined that for the last leg of my trip, a bus could drop me off within walking distance of the place I am staying despite its remoteness. There is also a local commuter train (DART) that stops just down the road of where I stayed in Dun Laoghaire and goes directly to the train station in Dublin. I was a little nervous of course that things don't always work out in reality as they should, but I had an emergency taxi fund just in case.






The main leg of the trip was taking the train from Dublin to Belfast. These leave from Connelly Station in Dublin and they run roughly every hour on weekdays. I knew that it was supposed to be hassle-free to travel to Northern Ireland. But I didn't expect that it would be quite this nonchalant. There was nothing about the ticket purchasing or boarding experience to indicate that we would be crossing a border. I simply bought a ticket to Belfast. No one asked me to show ID. No one asked why I was traveling there.




The train station itself was a remarkably calm place compared to other train stations I have been to in large cities. No pushing, no yelling, quiet, everyone incredibly courteous. A few people tried to help me with my luggage at various stages. I wasn't struggling with it, so I think the motivation might have been a sense of fairness - that they had none and I had three pieces, so they might as well carry some of mine to even it out.






On the platform I saw a man with a folding bike and a couple of large bags. He must have been watching me also, because when the train arrived he pointed to an entrance indicating that I should use that one. I did, and it contained a nice empty luggage compartment. I easily fit both my suitcase and my bike on the middle shelf. I then sat nearby with the Carradice bag on the floor next to me.




Once the passengers settled in and the controller checked everyone's tickets, a trolley cart was brought by selling food. I bought a hot tea, and the server asked whether it was okay to give me change in pounds sterling, since he was out of change in euros. This was the first indication that anything would be different at our destination.






The train from Dublin to Belfast proceeds mostly along the coast, and the views are beautiful. The sun even came out. I relaxed and felt pleased at how well everything was going.




An hour and a half later, the train broke down. We waited inside for 15 minutes as they tried to fix it, but were finally asked to disembark. It was then announced that we would be switching to a local service commuter train for the remainder of the journey, and that this train was waiting for us on a platform a short walk away, accessible by multiple staircases. An elderly lady beside me poked me with her elbow, winked, and said "Welcome to Northern Ireland."




I braced myself for the ordeal of multiple staircase climbs with a suitcase and a Brompton, but thankfully there were lifts, so it wasn't that bad. However, the commuter train was crowded with locals and did not have luggage compartments. I stacked my things in a corner near one of the exists, found a seat from which I could keep an eye on it, and hoped for the best.



At length we arrived in Belfast. I expected a busy station and a rush to get off the train, but there was neither. No one shoved me or even expressed annoyance at my things being piled in front of an exit. My suitcase was promptly placed on the platform for me by a huge hand whose owner I didn't even have a chance to glimpse, and I quickly grabbed the bike, worried that who-ever tried to help with it would try to pick it up by the (bottomless) bag.






The Belfast Central Rail Station is very small. There is a ticket stand, two tiny coffee shops, and two bank machines: one dispensing pounds sterling, the other dispensing euros. The one dispensing pounds was out of order. As luck would have it, I hadn't brought any cash in GBP, figuring I'd easily withdraw it here. So I bought a coffee, paid with a 20 euro note, and got the change back in pounds. A few others had the same idea and the coffee shop became the currency exchange booth.




Speaking as a visitor, it felt a little disorienting that there was nothing acknowledging a border between the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland, and yet there was suddenly a different currency system.A local radio station was playing, and in between songs the announcer said something like "the weather across the United Kingdom is beautiful today" and that too felt odd, since at no point had there been signs or announcements mentioning the United Kingdom.It's hard to explain, but the dichotomy feels confusing.







At the Belfast Central Rail Station, I bought a ticket for the local train to a place called Ballymena, which was the closest train station to my destination. These trains also ran very frequently, which impressed me given how sparsely populated County Antrim is. At the end of each train car, there was a section dedicated to bikes and baby strollers, with liftable seats. I easily stored my luggage there. The train route from Belfast to Ballymena is mostly inland, and there I saw saw some light industry and some farms. The landscape in this area looked a little stark compared to the Eastern coastline.




Up until this point it had been sunny, but as soon as the train stopped at Ballymena and I disembarked, it began pouring. Thankfully the Ulster Bus terminal was just across the road and it was covered. I carried my luggage there and found the Ballycastle bus stop. According to the schedule posted, the next bus was due to arrive in just 5 minutes. I was alone in the terminal except for a man in his 60s, who was pacing back and forth nearby. So far in Ireland, I have found it impossible to occupy the same space as someone else without ending up having a chat with them, and this was no exception. Within minutes I learned that the gentleman was a retired policeman who lived in the area and enjoyed a free bus pass on account of being a pensioner. Glancing at his watch, he gleefully announced that my bus was already late and that I was lucky if it showed up in the next half hour despite was the schedule said. "He's probably stopped for a sandwich, or having a chat with his mate," the man speculated cheerfully. However, the bus pulled up only a few minutes behind schedule.




Incredibly, it looked like I was to be the only passenger and the driver suggested that I simply toss my luggage onto the front row of seats. That is what I did, then sat down next to it.






We traveled 27 miles from the inland town of Ballymena to the coastal town of Ballycastle, as the weather alternated between glorious sunshine and dark skies with pelting rain. We passed mostly farmlands with lots and lots of baby lambs. Occasionally there was a village center, then back to lambs. They were beautiful and fluffy and I began to get sleepy counting them.




As we approached the coast, the driver asked me where I wanted him to stop. This sort of stunned me, but he assured me that he had nothing better to do and might as well take me to my door so that I didn't have to walk. As a dramatic view of the sea opened up in front of us, I told him the address and that is where he dropped me off.






And so finally there I was, with my suitcase, my Carradice bag and my Brompton, ringing the door bell of my new residence. At this point I was utterly exhausted. But all things considered I think the trip went well. I left Dublin at 7:40am and arrived at Ballycastle just past 12:30 in the afternoon. I managed fine with my luggage, and now here I am settled in and with my own bike on the Antrim Coast.




The transportation system in Northern Ireland is impressive as far as density of coverage and the frequency with which the local buses and trains run; I had not expected anything nearly this good. For anyone interested in traveling through County Antrim, you can definitely do so without the hassle of renting a car. Prices for buses and trains are reasonable, and the stops take you not only to local village centers but also to remote scenic locations along the coast such as the Giant's Causeway.Traveling with a folding bike should not be a problem, especially if it's one that folds up as small as the Brompton. For anybody considering visiting the Antrim Coast in this manner, I highly recommend it.

Awesome Ice!

Let the sun shine! Today was such a nice day, that I went for a walk on the ice for about 2 miles down the shore from my house. The ice is about 2 feet thick now, which means its plenty safe to walk on and what an interesting way to explore the shore! Not to mention easier. Most places along the lakeshore its difficult to walk because of all the rocks and boulders. The ice makes it much easier, because right next to shore its very smooth. About 30 to 50 feet from shore, there are ice piles here and there. Today I just wandered with the camera and when something caught my eye I snapped a picture of it.

(Above: Ice cave ceiling)

Trompe L'Oeil Lugwork

Having mentioned the idea of doing this as a joke some time ago, imagine my delight when I saw it in the wild: trompe l'oeil lugwork! Standing in the parlor of local pickelleur (randonneuring Dill Pickle bag maker) Emily O'Brien, when I first saw the bike across the room the illusion looked quite real. I figured it was an old beater frame, with the lugs spray painted to contrast the tubes. Then I got closer and realised the lugs looked unusually flat, and finally it hit me: They'd been cut out of tape and wrapped around the welded frame joints.






And lest you think this project is only about the fabulous looks, it does have practical merit: The tape is reflective. Just imagine the beautiful lugs glowing in the dark... A fun DIY idea to spruce up a boring frame in any event.








Apparently I am not the only one to have been fooled from a distance, as cyclists stop Emily all the time to ask about the interesting bike, usually assuming it is something vintage and Italian. Any guess as to what this bike is? Hint 1: It's a ubiquitous modern steel bike. Hint 2: The fork crown is lugged for real.

Henry M. Jackson Visitor Center II

On Friday, October 10th, the second reincarnation of the Henry M. Jackson Visitor Center was opened to the public and dedicated to the highly regarded and revered Washington State Senator Henry "Scoop" Jackson. Funding for the original saucer-shaped visitor center (check out the image to the right - a distinct likeness of the old JVC and a flying saucer taking off into space) was guaranteed much to his hard-work and dedication, so it was only fitting that the new visitor center also carry his name. Peter Jackson (the son of Henry Jackson, not the director) spoke at the ceremony, highlighting his father's love of wilderness, his desire to protect our country's most precious spaces, and to create enjoyable ways for people to learn from and enjoy these amazing places throughout our country and this state. The ceremony drew big-wigs from Washington (D.C. that is), including the Secretary of Interior Dirk Kempthorne, Representative Norm Dicks of Washington's Sixth Congressional District, and the Chairman of the House Subcommittee on National Parks. Other distinguished guests included local Nisqually tribal elder Zelma McCloud, National Park Service Pacific West Regional Director Jon Jarvis, the aforementioned Peter Jackson of the Henry M. Jackson Foundation, Mount Rainier National Park Superintendent Dave Uberuaga, an elder representative from the Consolidated tribes and bands of the Yakama Nation; yours truly of course and another famed NPS persona, Mike (Gator) Gauthier, dressed to the nine's in his class "A" uniform, and several hundred other attendees at the ceremony.

The new 'green', energy efficient JVC II is architecturally designed to match its surroundings and the historical park style, referred to as 'Park Service Rustic'. The feeling of the building when you first enter is dictated mostly by the space, due to the height of the ceiling and massive windows that line the entirety of the wall, naturally lighting the surroundings. However, it could also have something to do with the weird climber want-to-be mannequin placed high atop the climbing display. A feeling of comfort is there too. Above you are post and beam rafters, held together with cast iron fixtures and signs made from a menagerie of dark metal and wood. Overall, I was impressed and I think the sentiment was shared by most.
If you missed the grand opening, fret not, as you will have ample opportunity to view the building on weekends and most holidays, including the winter/holiday break from December 20th through January 4th. And as has been the tradition up at Paradise for many years, Ranger-led snowshoe walks will begin at the new JVC (snow permitting) on December 20th. The two public walks (12:30, 2:30) are approximately 1.5 miles in duration and last less than two hours and are moderate to strenuous. The walks are an amazing opportunity to experience the Park and Mountain in the wintertime. The adjacent photo was taken this past winter as I was returning from one of my group snowshoe walks - a beautiful view of the old JVC at sunset.
The opening of the JVC II means one more VERY important thing....re-opening our beloved Climbing Information Center (CIC) up at Paradise next summer. The CIC will function as it did before; climbing rangers staffing the desk will issue climbing permits and sell climbing passes, provide up-to-date route and snow conditions, weather forecasts, advice and as can only be expected from climbers (and NO ONE else) when they are awake and moving at 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday - perhaps some witty banter as well. See you all on the Mountain!

Magic in Vermont: the Old Spokes Home

Over the weekend, a bunch of us (it was actually an entire delegation) made our way from Boston, MA to Burlington, VT for the New England Randonneurs Vermont Fall Classic. The ride was to begin early in the morning on Sunday, and since Burlington is quite a distance away most of us arrived the day before. There are many interesting things to do in the area, but the destination I truly wanted to visit was the Old Spokes Home. When I described it to my companions Bikeyface and Vorpalchortle, they agreed that we must see it immediately.






Rolling into town in the pouring rain, we headed straight for the legendary establishment while there was still daylight to be had.






So what is the Old Spokes Home? Oh what indeed. To call it a bike shop is not sufficiently descriptive, though it is that too. But it is also a local hangout, a museum,a piece of history in the making. It is a place that is guaranteed to make bicycle lovers happy. That last bit happened to us within moments of approaching its gingerbread house-like exterior.






Overgrown with vegetation and stray bicycle parts, the "come-hither" energy was quite strong.






It is as if someone unleashed the power of their imagination on the place without holding back.






The bicycles parked in the gravel driveway coyly hinted at what awaited within. Upside-down North Roads. Mismatched frames and forks. Fenders and fixed gears. Holding our breath in anticipation, we rushed inside.






In the initial moments I hardly knew where to look. There was just so much of it that my eyes could not focus. Classic racing bikes peeked out from behind modern inventory.





Velocipedes and penny farthings hung suspended from the ceiling.






And these looked downright commonplace next to contraptions with labels such as "Crypto Alpha Bantam."






And then my eyes fell upon this.






Displayed quite casually between the wicker baskets and the bells shaped like cheeseburgers, was an all-original 1949 Rene Herse randonneuring bicycle.






Chromed. Vitus tubing. 650B wheels. Hammered fenders and chainguard. Single Stronglite crankset.






Though I had glimpsed a couple of Rene Herse bicycles in person prior to this, those experiences paled in comparison. The bicycle at the Old Spokes Home was at once so well-preserved, so classically Rene Herse-ish and so accessible, that I was beside myself. Could I touch it? Yes. And so I did. All over!






One thing that struck me about this bicycle, was how relatively plain it looked by today's standards of custom builds. It wasn't any one thing that created this impression, but the sum of the parts. In person, the bike did not stand out, but disappeared into itself - into the strong visual logic that dominated it. In that sense, the vintage Herse reminded me more of my modern roadbikethan it did of classic constructeur-inspired designs.






As I mulled this over, the owner of Old Spokes arrived - Mr. Glenn Eames. We recognised each other and there was much delight. Glenn was on his way to the Fat Chance party that was being held nearby, but I am glad to have gotten the chance to meet him. Had I made my way upstairs, he asked? I was just heading there.






The upstairs of the Old Spokes Home contains a small museum of vintage and antique bicycles. The collection is labeled, catalogued, and part of it is viewable online. But nothing compares to seeing it all in person.






It is difficult to photograph in the densely occupied attic space, but basically there are several pen-like enclosures behind which the oldest machines are kept. Others are hung from the ceiling. The oldest specimen in the collection is an 1868 Calvin Whitty Velocipede, and there are hundreds of antique machines on display showing the development of the bicycle as we know it.






While my personal interest in antiques is limited, I could not help but marvel at the sight of bicycle history unfolding in front of my eyes.






Bikeyface felt much the same.






Entranced by the magic of it, the three of us wandered around in a daze.






For me some of the highlights included the 1898 "ladies first" Iver Johnson Tandem,






the 1897 “Old Hickory” Tonk Manufacturing all-wood bicycle






(build using layers of laminated bent hickory, including fork and bottom bracket),






and some of the very early path racers and roadsters, such as this 1899 Tribune “Blue Streak" - a30” wheel light roadster.






And I especially enjoyed seeing some of the early step-through frames with lightweight dressguard and chaincase solutions. The earliest lady's frame on display is an 1899 Gormully & Jeffery Roadster, which I really would not mind taking for a spin.





Others wandered in and out of the museum while we were there, and the bicycle that impressed new visitors the most seemed to be this 3-person tandem -





- with its enormous rear chainring. I did not have a chance to ask about this bike and I do not see it listed in the collection, but some have suggested that the purpose of the large chainring was for the bike to be paced by a train - much as Charles "Mile-a-Minute" Murphy did by drafting behind a Long Island Rail Road boxcar.






Deeper within the attic are aisles of vintage bicycles that are available for sale.





Some are refurbished, others not. "This is an antique, not an everyday rider," warned a label attached to a machine with a spoon brake.






But most of the vintage vintage 3-speeds for sale would make excellent everyday riders in a small college town such as Burlington, VT. I was impressed to see how many there were on offer.






In part because of the Fall Classic brevet the following morning, and in part because of the Fat Chance party, the Old Spokes was a popular place that afternoon. Local framebuilderHubert D’Autremont stopped by. His work has garnered some attention at the Oregon Manifestand Cirque du Cyclisme lately, and I've been following it with interest.






As we made our way back downstairs, Fall Classic organiser Mike Beganyi stopped by to drop off some supplies for the following morning. The Old Spokes Home would serve as the start and the finish for the event.






I was glad to learn that the owner Glenn would be taking part in the ride, as well as many of the Old Spokes staff.






We were excited to meet such a nice group of local cyclists, and they were excited to learn that so many of us (I think it must have been over a dozen total) were making our way from Boston despite the downpour that was being forecasted for the entire weekend.






With all the coming and going, meeting and greeting, the atmosphere in the shop felt dynamic and warm, but I don't want to leave out the business side of things. Far from focusing on just exhibiting antiques, the Old Spokes is a fully stocked modern bike shop and repair shop. Burlington has experienced a boom in transportation cycling over the past several years, and the Old Spokes does a brisk trade in repairs and sales. The mechanics station is surprisingly large and busy for such a small town and it was exciting to see the sheer variety of customers' bikes that were up on the stands.






As far as new bikes, the Old Spokes Home carries floor models from Surly, Salsa, Brompton, Yuba and others. They are also an Independent Fabrications dealer. What impressed me the most was their enormous selection of Surly Pugsleys. In Boston, a bike shop might have one hanging up somewhere just for show, and a request to get it down tends to elicit surprise. Here, there were maybe a dozen of these things, ready and waiting to be ridden and bought. I imagine the Vermont winters might have something to do with the Pugsley's popularity!






It was also great to see a Velo Orange Polyvalent that belonged to one of the mechanics. All of the Old Spokes staff seem to ride interesting or unusual bikes.





With the evening upon us, it was soon time to check into our lodgings, and so reluctantly we bid the Old Spokes Home good-bye. We would be back for the brevet the following morning, but honestly it would take a dedicated visit lasting days if not weeks to really look through all the vintage and antique bikes they have stashed in there. My biggest regret is that I did not get to see the Hetchinses and the Flying Scotts (yes, plural), but maybe some other time.






If you like bicycles and find yourself anywhere near Burlington, Vermont, to say that the Old Spokes Home is worth a visit is an understatement. From the extensiveness of the vintage collection, to the warmth and knowledgeability of the staff, to the interesting selection of contemporary bicycles on the floor available to test ride, the Old Spokes can be a travel destination in of itself. This bright, happy, magical place was truly a highlight of our weekend. A sincere thank you to everyone who showed us around and made us feel so welcome! More pictures of the shop and museum here.