Crystal Springs ..

Got out on the skinny skis for the first time this season. Jennifer and I were originally planning a trip to one of the MTTA huts but were not able to on short notice due to their archaic reservation system. (That and our hut of choice was already full.) We decided on one day of skiing but where would we go? While the state was already charging to park at Sno Parks, no grooming had actually occurred except on the MTTA trails. I checked with the ranger stationed in REI and he told me the I90 Sno Parks would be groomed starting December 5th. Since this information was not online I took it because it was all we had. Jennifer and I were still going to head that way because we didn't know where else to go.

Meany snow cats awaiting more snow

Signs were good when we arrived at the pass and it was snowing. We continued east and stopped at the Crystal Springs Sno Park. We figured with the snowmobile traffic, it would resemble groomed and be good enough to ski on. To our dismay, the parking lot was not plowed and a high clearance vehicle was needed to negotiate it. So we drove down the highway to Cabin Creek to see what was in store. When we arrived, we saw a few guys digging a spot out in the parking lot so they could park. I wasn't particularly interested in that kind of workout, so we went across the highway to check on the trail condition. It certainly was not groomed. There was a small trail trench in the middle and that was it. We decided to head back to Crystal Springs.

The road

From our earlier trip to the parking lot we knew there was a spot to park just outside the lot where the road was plowed and we would not be in the way. We parked there and geared up. Jennifer was excited to use her new skis for the first time. We skied through the parking lot and onto the trail while keeping a close eye out for snow machines. The snow coverage wasn't great, but we didn't have to ski on dirt anywhere. Once we hit the road, there was low coverage from wheeled vehicles driving on it, so we kept to one side. We decided to head down the road to Trollhaugen as they had run their snow cat on it but did not groom. (That, and it was off limits to snowmobiles.) We skied down that way on what was nice compacted snow from the cat. Once at an intersection, the cat had turned around and we ventured out into untracked snow on the trails there. We made a small loop and returned back out to the road.

Skiing in the untracked forest

On our way out we stumbled upon ski tracks heading into the Erling Stordahl trails and we followed them for a loop. While not quite as nice as skiing on the trails the cat had driven on, it was nice having the track in there for us already. After that loop we called it quits and headed home.

Faster skiing on tracked snow

It was fun getting out on the skinny skis for a change. They'll probably make me better on the fatter skis, because I find it more difficult to balance and ski with them. Jennifer had fun and cannot wait to go back. Unfortunately, the trails will not be groomed until December 5th. Which makes sense to me now that I saw that the coverage probably wasn't enough for a proper grooming. And they wouldn't want to start grooming on Thanksgiving Weekend for obvious reasons. (Although I bet the state could have earned more money if they did.)

Immersion foot?

Frostbitten toes are easy to identify. Immersion foot is not.

(this is another retread piece from June of '10. It is worth a few minutes of your time if my personal experience is any example.)



In the last couple of weeks I have been asking my buddies what they have been up to. With all the nasty weather over most of the Western states and into Canada no surprise many of us are still trying to ice/alpine or even "winter" climb of sorts.

Frost-bite is less of an issue outside of Alaska in spring. Immersion foot is not. And that injury is more serious than you might first think.

"Immersion foot occurs when feet are cold and damp while wearing constricting footwear. Unlike frostbite, immersion foot does not require freezing temperatures and can occur in temperatures up to 60° Fahrenheit (about 16° Celsius). The condition can occur with as little as twelve hours' exposure."

FWIW I suspect mild immersion foot injuries (the ones with no visual injury) are very common in the summer and winter alpine climbing communities but unreported and generally unrecognised for what they really are.

How easy is the injury to sustain? I came off a 24hr c2c winter climb and on the walk out decided I was tired enough a nap on the trail was in order. Something I had done before many times in the past winter or summer. I wasn't particularly dehydrated (but likely more than I realised), hungry or cold but with the early start from home, the drive, the approach, the climb, the decent and then the walk out I was pretty worn out and had by then been up for 30+ hrs. So a quick nap seemed a luxury. I laid down on my pack to keep me off the ground and figured as usual when the cold woke me up I'd finish the walk out with a bit more energy. The cold did wake me up as expected. So I got a 20 or 30 minute nap. And with in a few minutes of walking I was warm again and life seemed better. But what I hadn't noticed till then was I still had damp feet from breaking through some water ice earlier in the day. Took longer than expected while walking to the car for my feet to warm up, but they did eventually warm up. When I got home I took a hot shower and hit the sheets for a few hrs before I went back to work. When I finally stepped back into my shop I noticed the front half of both feet were numb. Because I kept climbing all winter it took a full 18 months for that to totally disappear and my feet are very susceptible to re injury. (front of my feet go numb) Now re injury can happen by just a few hrs of cold feet sitting at the computer early in the morning barefoot. Or wearing tight rock shoes in cool conditions and not moving, like a hanging belay for example, can do it as well.

Another example? I spent most of my first Alaskan expedition wiggling my toes every night for a hr or so before I fell asleep in my lwt bag if we weren't actually out climbing. I'd count the toe curls until I fell asleep. By the end of that trip I had numb toes but no frost bite injuries. I'd bet now I had a classic case of Immersion foot.

Not a lot is out there for the care of Immersion foot incurred in a climbing situation. Two friends I talked to about the injury said they had "frost nip", a third thought he had "nerve damage". But the symptoms are nearly the same. And almost everyone I know who has spent time out winter climbing has had either Immersion foot or Frost Bite. I suspect the basic treatment to heal the injury (nerve damage, Immersion foot, or moderate Frostbite-blisters) is also the same, keep your feet warm, clean and give yourself time to heal the injury completely without re injury.

What we miss is Immersion foot can easily lead to very serious re injury and less resistance to cold injuries in general.

So how do you know you have it? Many of us have always thought of it as "frost nip" but it generally is not. Immersion foot is serious damage to your nerves and circulation in the foot. And frost bite will be the freezing of tissue. But Immersion foot may have almost no outward sign of injury. Frost Bite most defiantly will. A good thing many of us are beginning to recognise there is an injury with Immersion foot by incorrectly naming it "frost nip". Your feet or at least the toes and forefoot become numb with Immersion foot. Get a good enough case of Immersion foot and even your once comfortable but tight rock shoes will now not fit and worse yet re injure you feet on a typical spring day and you don't have to have cold feet while it happens .

The other culprit that leads to Immersion foot is abuse, same reason the rock shoe scenario is so hard on their past winter's injury. Get on some hard and continuous alpine ice with a tight fitting boot and it is very easy to pound you feet and toes into submission with nerve damage. But sometimes it is hard to tell nerve damage from Immersion foot. Keeping your feet warm and dry once out of the mountains is your best chance of healing your feet quickly and getting back outside in comfort.

Besides making an effort to treat your feet better and wearing a warmer climbing boot this time of year with all the bad weather, what can you do once you have a good case of Immersion foot?

My answers to date: wear very warm shoes in the house or office so your feet sweat. Keep your feet dry even if you have to change socs several times a day while doing little or nothing. It will heal the nerve endings faster if your feet are warm. But avoid doing nothing once you are out of your boots. Walking seems to speed healing. Pounding out mileage I am not so sure about once you get into the "abuse of feet" distances. Watch how warm/dry your feet stay if you are riding a bicycle for training. Remember you only have to get to 60° Fahrenheit (about 16° Celsius) before damage can re occur. After the first incident with Immersion foot your feet will be damaged easier the next time. The amount of time between the first injury and the next exposure can make a difference as well on how you heal and your next case of Immersion foot. While your feet are still numb stay out of tight rock shoes. And most importantly avoid getting your feet cold again for any reason while they are still numb. The more time between exposures to cold the better.

As a side note to make the point. Have you ever heard of older people having "poor circulation" in their feet and them always being cold? Remember that Immersion foot can be experienced at 60° Fahrenheit. Many, many cases of "poor circulation" as we age are simply reoccurring Immersion foot events until the person has suffered permeate cold damage to their feet.

Make some one you know happy this winter (or all year long) by buying them chemical heat packs and show them how to put them in their slippers or sox :)

Long Tail Tales

While I neither own a cargo bike nor intend to own one any time soon, I love the the idea of them and like to live vicariously through those who have them by asking about their experiences. The cargo bike owners/shoppers I talk to are mostly North Americans and I notice that overall they are opting for long-tail bicycles over front-load box bikes. In large part this is because these cyclists tend to live in hilly, bike-unfriendly suburbs that do not lend themselves to the comfortable but unwieldy box bikes. Long-tails, on the other hand, are said to handle with the maneuverability and responsiveness of regular bikes, while allowing room for extra cargo in the extended rear. At Interbike this year there were long tails from all manner of manufacturers, roughly half of them, it seemed, touting electric assist. But rather than feature every random concoction, I will focus on some trusted manufacturers that have come out with updates and new designs.





Yuba had its new "midtail cruiser" on display, the Boda Boda. Named after African bicycle taxis, this model was created in response to requests for a slightly shorter wheelbase and a lower stepover. Featuring 26" wheels, fat tires, swept-back handlebars and derailleur gearing, the aluminum-frame bike weighs 35lbs, is rated to carry over 200lb, and retails for $1,000.





The Boda Boda is described as comfortable, in that it "rides like a European townie bike – upright and casual," yet "will get you there and back, even in hilly San Francisco." Studying this bike I admit skepticism regarding that last part, but I am willing to keep an open mind and will gladly test ride a Boda Boda if the opportunity presents itself. As I stood next to the bike, a couple of women came along and talked at length about how delighted they were with the lower step-over; the bike looked friendlier and more accessible, they said.





The original Mundo model was on display as well, fitted with Yuba's frame-mounted Bread Platform front rack (rated for 40-50lb). Though I rode a Yuba Mundo a couple of years ago, the short ride did not leave me with an impression I can now recollect, so I would like to try again. Owners overall seem very pleased with this bike and describe the handling as speedy.






Between the Mundo, the Boda Boda and the various accessories available with the bikes, Yuba offers a range of choices at comparatively reasonable prices. I loved seeing this enormous suitcase strapped to the side of a Mundo with the help of Rok Straps. Who says you have to compromise on luggage when traveling by bike?






Xtracycle, the company that originally introduced the long tail concept, exhibited a range of bikes and accessories that practically turned their booth into theme park. Xtracycle makes two main categories of products: the Free Radical, which is a bike extender kit that can turn almost any normal bike into a long tail, and the Radish, which is its own line of integrated longtail bikes. The big news at Interbike was that Xtracycle will now be releasing a new bicycle model to supplement the Radish line - the EdgeRunner. This bike will have a mixte-ish, unisex frame and you can see most of it up there on the shelf in bright blue. Unfortunately, I dropped the ball on this one and have no decent pictures that show the entire bike. Mea culpa, and I hope you can imagine the last, long tail bit of it...






...which looks just like this. This is a taupe version of the same model, and yes I only have pictures of the rear! What you see attached to the bike is Xtracycle's new folding side caraccessory.






The cargo platform is fairly light, easy to install (onto an existing Xtracycle system), is rated to carry 200lbs of weight, and folds up when not in use. It looks very cool, though I do wonder how the bike handles on turns with the sidecar addition. Unlike most sidecars, this one pivots - but I imagine not so much when loaded with 200lb.






There were other prototype add-ons on display, like this slatted rear box that can be used for both cargo and small passenger transport. And yes, this is yet another incomplete shot of the new Xtracycles bike - this time in a gunmetal finish.





Also on display was a spruced up step-through Radish (there used to also be a diamond frame version, but I think they've done away with it?), in a new sunflower-yellow colour with matching stem. The steel Xtracyces are heavier that the Yuba bikes (40lb for the Radish), but are rated to carry more weight (350lb).





This yellow Radish was fitted with a prototype Party Deck platform that includes built-in speakers and a beer keg stand.






It's funny to observe how aesthetics can affect a bike's curb appeal. The yellow Radish is much more striking than the original beige/brown versionand people flocked to it.






Visitors took turns hopping in the saddle, and I confess to riding it down the back hallway until a security guard gave me a look. I'd been wanting to try a Radish for some time, but the local bike shops do not carry them - so I talked to the Xtracycle fellows and they'll try to work something out. Based on my brief exposure to it, I really like this bike and would love to try it out on the road. Maybe even with a sidecar...





But the pièce de résistance of the long tail displays at Interbike was the collaboration between Xtracycles and Tern. Yes, that is a folding long tail you are looking at: the Tern Joe with an Xtracycle Free Radical rear extension. And yes, I rode it very briefly - but I can't really get a sense of a bike like this within the confines of a trade show. I am hoping a proper test ride will be possible in the near future.





The result of the Xtracycles and Tern collaboration is the Cargo Joe: a 26" wheel folding longtail with an aluminum frame, hi-ten steel fork, and derailleur gearing, available in 3 sizes. Here is a blog post from Xtracycles showing it loaded up with a bunch of weight.





The simple fold takes about 30 seconds, with the frame unhinging in the middle.






The folding bike then rests on the floor via a kickstand-type contraption under the bottom bracket.





The retail price $1,000 for everything shown here, including the waterproof bags. Adding fenders and lights will increase the cost, but even with that taken into account it seems like a great value. As an owner of a Brompton that I often use as a mini-cargo bike, I can attest that having a bike that hauls weight and stows away compactly is invaluable for someone who lives in a small space, eliminating the problem of storing an enormous cargo bike. And while the Cargo Joe's fold is not minuscule, it nonetheless allows for easy storage, as well as for being taken on trains and in cars. The possibilities are pretty amazing, especially for those who do not own a car.






As far as overall trends for long tail cargo bikes, the main ones I noticed were lower step-over heights and a move toward greater compactness. If this reflects the nature of the customers who are buying the bikes, my guess is that there has been demand from more women, more apartment dwellers, and more multi-modal commuters. I am excited by the possibilities I am seeing with these bikes, and look forward to following the development of long tail designs in the years ahead.

DROVES Diaries II: Loop of Defeat

It is Saturday night on Memorial Day weekend. We are in Vermont. And it is snowing outside. It is really starting to accumulate now. We take turns running out onto the porch to snap pictures. We do not know what to do with ourselves, other than look at each other with a helpless giddiness as if to say "This is really happening and you are my witness, right?" Surely twenty or thirty years from now we will each be telling some bored youngster in our family about that time it snowed on Memorial Day weekend. But what to do with these emotions now that it's happening? Well, there is always instagram.




The people I am with, they drink like Europeans - lots, as a matter of course, and, seemingly without getting drunk. There is also a great deal of eating. Tray after tray is passed around. I decline second helpings. I push half of my dessert onto a neighbour's plate. And still I feel close to being sick, while the others seem to thrive. I look around the table with admiration. I cannot eat like this, despite having ridden the same miles. Not that those miles seem like much to brag about in retrospect.




I slept straight through the night and opened my eyes at 8:30am. A heavy pile of comforters. Wooden beams all around. The air smells of outdoors and feels just as crisp. At first I marvel at how quiet it is. But then I realise that I'd simply grown used to the rain beating against the metal roof as background noise. It is raining as hard as last night, and it is almost as dark.




Downstairs, some of the others are awake already, quietly eating breakfast in different parts of the room. I step out onto the porch and see a watery mess in the dirt driveway. It is raw-cold out, and I duck back indoors. There is coffee and I pour myself some. I settle down with a bowl of cereal and listen to the rain.




Pamela is at the table with her laptop. Extreme weather warnings are in effect.She suggests that those who want to ride wait till mid-day, when the rain might ease up.And she proposes we do a short route - one that's designed as a half-day ride and is only 30 miles long, called the Victory Loop. Pamela and John debate whether the steep descent toward the end might be washed out and could be dangerous. They decide that today the route should be ridden backwards. "It is steeper in reverse, but safer."



I copy the route and glance at the metrics: 30 miles, 3600 feet of climbing. All dirt. I eat my cereal and don't allow the figures to register.




"The Victory Loop in reverse... doesn't that make it the Loop of Defeat?"




More people are awake now, but there is no talk of riding.




"I am fine right here," someone says. "Any board games in the house?"




The RSC boys continue to work on John Bayley's bike. They are now opening the bleed kit for the hydraulic brakes. Matt Roy - an immunologist and pro bike mechanic - is wielding the syringe picturesquely as we all take pictures.




But finally I am restless. Am I crazy for wanting to ride on a day like this?




At noon, Mo Bruno-Roy appears in a colourfully mismatched ensemble. She is going on a short mountain bike ride in the woods. After she sets off, I can take it no longer.




I go upstairs and put on my cycling clothes. Fleece winter tights, baselayer, long sleeve jersey, winter jacket, neck warmer, full finger gloves, shoes, and those fetishistic-looking booties I'd been too intimidated to try all winter. I walk downstairs and amuse everyone.




Before I can change my mind,I drag my bike outdoors and set off. The rain is like a waterfall.By the time I reach the end of the dirt driveway, my glasses fog up so completely that I must take them off.At the main road I turn right.




As it is later remarked, there is no foreplay in the routes around Burke, Vermont. "They begin to fuck with you right away."




The first climb happens immediately and it is 3 miles long, starting out paved and turning to dirt. One of those roads with the truck-on-triangle "Steep Grade" sign. I feel like someone hit me over the head with a hammer. I see stars.Blood rushes to my face.My mouth goes dry. My head starts to pound. And my legs feel like led.I grind in my 1:1 gear.I cannot climb like this starting at mile zero, I just can't.




The dirt roads are beige and gritty. It has been raining for days. But remarkably, it is not muddy. Streams of clay-tinted water over wet dirt, but no mud. The ground is soft though, not unlike tightly packed wet sand. It gives under the weight of me and the bike. My tires stick to it, sinking just enough to sap my energy. Crawling uphill, I feel like a caterpillar, a snail.




At the top I stop and take out my camera. But really I stop because I am out of breath and my heart is pounding and my vision is blurry. There is nothing to photograph here. A farm surrounded by fog. Dark clouds pressing down on the soaked landscape. A cluster of sad, broken lilac bushes. Rain, rain, rain. My legs are trembling from the climb; I cannot handle an entire route like this. What am I doing here?




I get back on the bike and hope to rest on a flat stretch, but immediately I start to descend. There are some ruts and washboards now. The bike starts bouncing. I stop and lower the pressure in my tires. That helps. Letting the bike go, I steer around the bends and feather the brakes.




At the bottom, I see that another uphill stretch awaits. But I go off course and take a different road, one that looks like it might offer some rolling hills. But no, that road goes up as well. I stop when my computer registers a 20% grade, turn around and ride back down. Later I will do the same several more times, with similar results. There are no gentle roads here. Explore all you want, but expect at least 1,000 feet of elevation gain for every 10 miles.




Back on course now, the road goes up again, but at a gentler grade than before. The rain eases up. I sip my water and spin, feeling almost energetic.




Now the directions say to turn onto Victory Road. It is a much narrower road, almost a trail, that runs though dense woods. It is gravely and rocky. The pitch steepens horrendously, almost comically. I put my water back in the bottle cage and keep pedaling, clicking through my gears until once again I run out. Then I grind. At this moment I can imagine few things more humiliating than grinding in a gear as low as mine. I don't belong here.




I am crawling up a wall of gravel.My mind wanders. I have imaginary conversations with myself. I can't feel my legs, but somehow rotate the pedals anyway. Water and sweat stream down my face.




Ahead, things get worse. I see that the sides of the road have caved in and are flanked by rushing streams of water.I remember that this is the road with potentially washed-out descent that caused Pamela to reverse the route. As I climb further, ravine-like formations begin to take shape down the center, with streams of water flowing through them. I pick a line to avoid them, but this becomes progressively harder, until finally one ravine intersects the other. I ride over this in slow motion at a 16% grade. I try to keep going, but now the road is truly ravaged. Gravel starts to spill out in clumps under my front tire and I slide backwards. The grade steepens still and I get off to push my bike the rest of the way up, barely upright. My arms and shoulders hurt from the effort. I space out until I reach the top.




The descent is not much better at first and I keep walking. I can't pick out a line; it is all rutted out, or in the process of caving in. But finally I get on the bike, launch it downhill and hope for the best. There are large, sharp rocks and I steer around them. It is a 4 mile descent. I am falling and falling and falling. A free-fall.




At the bottom I am suddenly jolted into alertness. Not by the end of the descent, but by the realisation that I am pedaling along a flat stretch. Having gotten used to vertical roads, it is downright disconcerting. And again, I feel as if my tires stick to the ground, as if I am riding in slow motion. The rain stopped. There is a lake - or maybe a flooded field - and I stop to take a break. I look at the time and see how late it is grown. I've added some extra miles to the route, but still have barely done over 20 so far, and it took me nearly 3 hours. I wonder whether the others, setting out to ride the same route later, might have passed me during one of the times I'd gone off course. I try to get a move on.




Next comes a long, winding paved climb with no end in sight. Once again I am crawling. Surely this cannot be called cycling, not at this speed. The grade steepens yet again and once again I consider walking. But just then I suddenly sense a presence beside me, and I see Ted. Pamela and Emily are not far behind. They tell me they left soon after I did, but I doubt that very much - it would not have taken them this long to catch me.




Briefly we ride together. Nearly breaking my knees, I push myself to keep up, but they gently slip away. And when I see them disappear, it is through a veil of snowflakes. At first I think I am hallucinating, but it is unmistakable. Snowflakes on my handlebar bag, on my gloves, on the sleeves of my jacket.




It is not a soft, fluffy snowfall, but a sharp and sleety one. When the next long descent begins, it hits me in the face like needles; it stabs me in the eyes. I try to put my glasses on, but they fog up. So I squint, resisting closing my eyes completely. My face hurts, really hurts. I can see where I am going only approximately. The road is winding and steep. It feels as if I get through it by putting my bike on autopilot.




Finally, a quieter, gentler road, and I am on dirt again. Tall trees shelter me from the vicious snow-needles. I check my computer and see I am 6 miles from the end. I pedal hard and try to get it over with.




Nearly home now, from the corner of my eye I notice a car slowing down beside me. There is no one else on the road but us, and for a moment I panic. A serial killer on the prowl, preying on slow cyclists. But it is John Bayley and Matt Roy. "Can we give you a lift home?" I am confused, then slightly outraged. "In the car?! Why?" They point at the sky. "We were worried!" I assure them I am doing wonderfully, and wave them away.Some minutes later I drag my bike into the cabin, to the sound of applause.




All this for 37 miles. But they were the hardest I've ever done. My legs are shot and my upper body is aching. I cannot imagine walking tomorrow, let alone riding. Feeling dejected, elated and utterly ridiculous, I go upstairs to wash and change for dinner. Out of the bedroom window I notice the snow again. Maybe I am dreaming all of this up.

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.

Wordless Wednesday - The Line Up

Great Sand Dunes National Park & Preserve.
Summer of 1979. Digitized ...
Copyright © 1979/.. by Rebeckah R. Wiseman.

Strange yellow fungi

Hubby and I were out walking. Right in the middle of being pouty and complaining, I spotted these strange yellow fungi

growing out of the side of a mossy little bluff on the old logging road.


Close-up of the lower one. If it were any larger I think I'd be worried about zombies hatching out and trying to eat my brains.


Close-up of the other one.*


I found another group further down the road. This one's stem was covered in leaves.


I removed them so I could see it in all its, um, glory.

I almost feel the need to say that these photos may not be suitable for young children!

I believe these are either Ravenel's Stalked Puffball (Calostoma ravenelii) or Yellow Stalked Puffball (Calostoma lutescens). I found a couple of keys but neither seems to match exactly.


* Interesting tiny fern (or bryophyte?) on the lower right too. I didn't notice it until I looked at the photos. I couldn't identify it with a quick web search - maybe someone else will know.

Visiting Neighbours at Work

A couple of weeks ago I visited Seven Cycles - a local manufacturer of titanium, steel and carbon fiber bicycles. I was given a tour of the factory and it was, of course, fascinating. I never tire of seeing local framebuilding shops: The machinery, the precision of the work involved, even the heaps of tubing and the scraps of metal lying around excite me. And there certainly was all that at Seven, on a grand scale.






To my surprise - seeing how they are TIG-welders mostly - there was even lugwork. Lots and lots of lugwork in fact, with interesting cutouts.






But what made the biggest impression on me during the visit was not the intriguing floor layout, the delicately carved titanium latticework, or the explanation of Seven's approach to the manufacturing process. It was the fact that I recognized so many of the faces I saw there.





It is hard to explain the state of mind this put me in without coming across as preachy about local manufacturing, which is not my intent. I am not thinking about the political-economic implications of local manufacturing as a concept, but about the very concrete existence of my local manufacturing. I mean, there is a factory 6 miles from my house, and in this factory they make bicycles from scratch, and the people making these bicycles - well I happen to know many of them and they live nearby, and sometimes we even see each other on the street. That is highly unusual is all. In today's society the relationship between objects and the people who make them has become completely abstracted. We do not expect our neighbours to make the stuff we might be using; we expect that stuff to be made by some nameless entity, far away from our little world.





When I told SevenownerRob Vandermark how much I enjoy watching frames being built, he replied that not everyone feels that way. For some seeing the process takes away the mystery, and it's more exciting if a frame just "appears" - shiny and new with flawless paint. I've heard that before. A framebuilder once told me that he discourages customers from watching him work, because it makes them more aware of the possibility of human error and later those customers are liable to feel more nervous about their frames. Psychologically, that makes sense. But it also means that consumers of goods prefer not to think about the process of making those goods, which has all sorts of far-reaching implications.





Maybe it's because I've made things by hand myself and used them, as well as given and sold them to others who've used them. But seeing how something is made excites me rather that ruins some illusion of flawlessness.






The first person I saw when I entered the production area during my visit was Bryan Hollingsworth of Royal H. Cycles - whom I watched make a lugged mixte frame for me more than 2 years ago now. He works for Seven(making carbon fiber frames!) a couple of days a week, and on Royal H. the rest of the time.





Welder Mike Salvatore has his own project on the side as well, albeit a Sketchy one.






Dan Pugatch lives in Somerville and is well known on the local cycling scene.





Dan writes ablog and contributes to Boston Retro Wheelmen, but what I didn't know is that he also has this cool tattoo that promotes cycling to work in regular clothing. Notice that the pirate is riding a step-through with a full chaincase. I wonder how the crate is attached to the rear rack, and whether there is a sword peg brazed onto the frame?






Jonathan Henig lives maybe 5 minutes from me and is a fellow photographer. First thing he did when we started talking was examine my camera lens and nod approvingly.





I had not met Neil Doshi before, but I knewhis bike - a happy marriage of titanium, green canvas and leather.






And now I saw it in person, along with dozens of other contraptions in the famous Bike Room. The bikes of Seven employees are staggeringly practical - lots of upright 3-speeds, handmade racks, huge saddlebags. More what I would have expected to see at Rivendell than at Seven, a company known for its racing bikes.






After my tour, I couldn't help but wonder whether I'd gotten the most out of it. The space is truly impressive and there is a positive energy that makes me want to run out and apply for a job there, regardless of what it is they'd assign me to do (I hear there is a titanium shavings sweeper position open?). In retrospect I should have asked more detailed questions about the manufacturing process. I should have taken close-up photos of the machinery with a medium format film camera. Instead I walked around talking to everyone, then watching them quietly, then talking some more. Not necessarily about bikes either. And then we all said "good-bye" and "see you soon" and then I rode my bike home - an idyllic route from Watertown along the Charles River Trail.






Cycling home after my visit, I remembered the first time I met Rob Vandermark. It was about a year and a half ago, when I had just discovered the Ride Studio Cafe. The first time I came in there was this tall, polite, unassuming guy serving coffee behind the counter. Naturally, I thought he was the barrista. Later someone came in with a flat tire and he went to take care of that, so then I figured he was the all-around shop guy. After a brief chat, it also turned out that he was my neighbour - living nearby in Somerville and commuting to Lexington by bike when possible. Only well into another conversation with him later did I learn, with some embarrassment, that he was the owner of both RSC and Seven Cycles. As a customer, you would never know. And of course the whole point is that it should not matter.







I guess all I'm saying is... My neighbours build bikes. And I think that's really, really great.