So, did you know that Mary had a little lamb? No, seriously. That there once was an actual girl, named Mary, who kept a diminutive pet sheep? The girl in question(Mary Sawyer, to be precise)lived in Sterling Massachusetts in the 1800s. And according to historical scholars, some time in 1830 she brought her pet lamb to school - an act that caused such mirth among the other children, that a local poet was inspired to immortalise it in verse. On the Sterling Town Green, astatue now standscommemorating the event.
This statue also marks the halfway point and only control stop of theNew England Randonneurs Populaire - a timed 107 km ride that heralds the official start of the local brevet season.
"But at least take a picture next to the Lamb!" someone exclaimed when I mentioned there would be no pictures on this ride. A kindly volunteer did the honors. My few lucid memories of the Populaire revolve around the stone rendering of the famous Victorian pet.
Having already done two "Permanents"earlier this month (this one and this one), I hoped the official Populaire would not be anti-climactic. I needn't have worried.
Some notes, while it's all still fresh and I am too tired to feel self-conscious:
I must remember that rides with similar overall elevation gain can be very different. The climbing on this one was intense and draining, even though the elevation gain (3813ft over 68 miles) was the same as in the previous (easier!) 100Ks I did this year.
But perhaps much of that had to do with
howI did this ride. Straight through, minimal stopping, really pushing myself to get it done. Particularly on the return leg, I just basically raced through the course, inasmuch as I am capable of such a thing. I do not know what possessed me to do it this way; I certainly did not have to as there was plenty of time left before the cutoff. But it felt in the spirit of the event: Everyone seemed focused on making good time. I finished well (for me), certainly better than expected. But it was tough. At some point,everything was a blur, attempts at conversations became babbling nonsense.
For some of the time I rode in a group.This proveda novel experience compared to previous group riding.While the group's average speed was similar to my own, their rhythm did not match mine - a situation I found extremely difficult to deal with. I tried a few times to cycle ahead of the group, so as to go at my own pace. This did not work, as they'd always catch me. Falling behind did not work either, as I'd eventually catch up, yet again be unable to pass them. I seemed destined to ride in this group and adapt to its rhythm; it was as if a magnetic field held us together!
The start of the Boston brevets is in a middle-of-nowhere location - an airforce base some distance from my house. By the time I got home, I had ridden 105 miles, and felt every single one of them. A Century is not quite a casual distance for me, yet. This is disappointing.
Because of the Boston Marathon bombings and their aftermath, the Populaire took place one week later than initially planned. The 200K brevet is next Saturday, not leaving much time for further training. Considering how I feel after this ride, I am not sure it is a good idea to embark on the 200K so soon. But I will see how I feel mid-week.
Finally... Despite this depriving me of photo opportunities, it felt good to put in an effort and try to make decent time. By mid day it was all over, and afterward I felt oddly over-emotional. I wasn't happy, or sad, or proud or frustrated exactly. Rather, it was as if so many miles and so much intensity packed in a fairly short time was too much for my system to cope with. But in a good way... I think.
My thanks to the New England Randonneurs for putting on this event, and to the wonderful volunteers who made it happen. I hope to see you again this summer.
I could have died happy after ticking this one.
Somervillain brought his meticulously restored 1984 Shogun 2000, which he built up as a classic randonneur. The Co-Habitant brought his 1976 Motobecane Super Mirage (a lower-end model than the Shogun - but still nicely done up) to compare.
And compare they did.
This went far beyond test riding each other's bikes, and gradually turned into what seemed like a millimeter by millimeter comparison of various measurements.
There was a question of whose top tube was longer and no effort was spared to investigate the matter. I wish I were joking.
My Mercier stood back and stared in amazement. Having no top tube, she could not understand what all the fuss was about.
Having resolved this issue to their satisfaction, a discussion of component choices ensued.
I think the conclusion is clear: Both bicycles are gorgeous, because I helped choose the accessories when they were being built up. Obviously! I will post more about Somervillain's newly built up randonneur soon - it really is something, and I took detailed pictures.
The same morning, Somervillain helped us out by replacing a cotter on the Co-Habitant's 1972 Raleigh DL-1. Yes, that is a cotter press right there on the sidewalk.
Cotter press in action.
Cotter.
Crank.
And voila.
Boys. Bicycles. Boston.
Mt. Rainier finally had a good weekend forecast, so it was time to attempt the Furher Finger route.
Our route is shown in red. We descended the Kautz Glacier route, shown in blue.
Dave on the Nisqually Glacier passing some crevasses on our way to high camp.
Our camp at Turtle Rock (9400').
We got an "alpine start" at midnight, so we could hopefully get to the top and down before the snow got too soft. Dave moving up Furher Finger.
Doug near the Hourglass.
Doug and Dave on top with a little snow falling.
Dave below the steep pitches on the Kautz Glacier, just above the Turtle Snowfield.
We have finally hung the Motobecanes up on the wall and cleared up some floor-space in my art studio. Now there are "only" four bicycles there: the Pashleys and the vintage DL-1s. It is not a large studio by any means; I have no idea how we managed to store six bicycles there. At least now these two are suspended from hooks in the bedroom.
I think the Motobecanes look rather nice here. The door on the left is a closet, and yes the positioning of my mixte makes the closet impossible to open without taking the bike down. That is okay, because it is a long-term storage closet and we only open it occasionally. There was no other place to hang the bikes in the entire apartment; the rest of our wallspace is covered with book-cases.
We used common 5" threaded, ruberised hooks that you can easily find at any bike shop. They are intended for wood, and you need to be sure that you are screwing them into wooden beams and not drywall. Also, this probably goes without saying, but this method is not intended for extremely heavy bicycles, such as Dutch bikes or English Roadsters. Our vintage roadbikes are around 30lbs each, and I would not go much beyond that weight.
A few weeks ago I tried to wear these shoes while riding Marianne. After getting half way down the block I had to return home and change, because they kept slipping off the pedals. Yesterday, I tried the same shoes on Eustacia Vye, and was delighted at the lack of slippage. The Pashley's platform pedals must be grippier than the Motobecane's, though the Pashley has rejected shoes in the past as well.
This brings me to the general issues of footwear on bicycles. I don't like to pretend that something is easy for me when it is not, just for the sake of making cycling seem super-easy and convenient. And finding shoes to wear while cycling is not always easy for me. In my pre-velo days, I wore mostly dressy high heeled shoes, and occasionally flat dressy shoes like the exquisite Italian green ankleboots in these photos. However, I must confess that I find 75% of my footwear problematic to wear while cycling.
The problem is not the heels, but the soles: they tend to slide off the pedals. To me it seems downright hazardous to cycle like that, especially when standing up. An additional issue is when soles are thin and/or flexible: I find it uncomfortable to push on the pedals in shoes like that. As a result, I wear only a small portion of the footwear I own when cycling. And since I cycle pretty much every day, this means that I have basically stopped wearing all those other shoes, some of which I greatly miss.
Convoying: driving slowly down the alpine zig-zagged road.
The bus that went off the road.
Removing the snow chains upon reaching the valley.
Beautiful castle ruins along the highway on the valley.
The view from my front door. Doesn't look too bad? Well, there is about three inches of compacted slush, snow, ice and sleet in the drive. I haven't ventured out to the mail box yet. No traction. The pictures were all taken within 20 feet of the apartment and I used the flash to get some definition and contrast.
