Aftermarket Dynamo Lights: a Clean Look

When setting up dynamo lighting on a bicycle with no provisions for it (i.e. no internal routing or special braze-ons), there is always the question of how to route the wiring so that it looks "clean." After all, no one likes to see black wires coiled around a frame's fork and tubes. When setting up the lights on my Rivendell some time ago, the Co-Habitant and I developed a nice method that is practically invisible, and I've been meaning to share it. So when we recently did the same to my Bella Ciao, I made sure to document it.

This method assumes that your bicycle is equipped with fenders, and that you are installing both a headlight and tail light. I will also assume that you already know how to connect the lights themselves; this is not meant to be an electrical tutorial.

The key to our method is using as little wiring as necessary - running it in a straight line parallel to existing stays and tubes, as opposed to coiling it, and securing it with colour-matched zipties. It's a simple idea, but colour-matched zipties really do blend in with the bicycle when all is said and done. You may be surprised to learn that they are available in all sorts of colours - from bright rainbow hues, to neutrals such as clear, white, cream, taupe and gray. We use small gray zipties to route the wire from the tail light along the non-drivetrain side fender chainstay.

In natural light, the result looks like this.

We then proceed along the non-drivetrain side chainstay, using a larger colour-matched ziptie. This frame is a sort of pale military green, and this beige ziptie blends in nicely.

Continuing the same underneath the bottom bracket.

In natural light, the wiring really does "disappear" when routed in this manner, staying close to the chainstay.

If your frame already has shifter cable braze-ons on the downtube as this one does, then you can simply attach the wiring to the shifter cable itself (small black zipties this time). Otherwise, use two large colour-matched zipties for the dwntube, like we did here.

For the headlight, you will need to leave enough wire so that your ability to turn the handlebars is not constricted. We prefer to achieve this by creating a coil here. To do this, simply wrap the wire tightly around a pen or a stick.



And voila, there is your coil. Notice the additional ziptie along the shifter cable, just to keep everything neatly in place.



Finally, use the same colour-matched zipties along the fork as you did along the chainstays, routing the wire to the hub as tautly as possible.



Even frames with internal routing often lack provisions for the fork, and here I find it especially important to find zipties in a colour that blends in with the paint - otherwise it can look as if the fork is cut into pieces, its elegant curvature disturbed. I am using my camera flash to show the process, but in daylight this really looks quite unobtrusive.



In natural light up close.



And from further away.



Having used this method on three bicycles now, I am pleased with it and don't particularly covet frames with provisions for internal routing. Nothing has ever come loose, and visually I am pretty happy with it. You are welcome to use our method, or to share your own.

For the technically inclined gear geeks

I have been thinking my ski skills are much improved recently.



Then I thought a dose of reality was do. Call it a gut check or soul searching. Your choice.



For various reasons I waxed and took a pair of 207cm Rossignol 4Gs out for a spin yesterday. The skis are like new and when purchased in 1993, state of the art. Reality checked inonthe first turn. A few runs later and I was enjoying all the good things about an old school GS race ski. Solid under your feet. They carve like a Samurai sword and they are stiff enough to plow through anything.



Conditions were literally falling apart at Alpental yesterday. Snow turning to water the moment it hit you. BIG slide evidenceeverywhere inside the ski area and a foot or so of heavy snow generally cut up where it wasn't simply avi debris.



Truth is, almost perfect conditions for a snow board. But even they were finding the avi debris problematic.



The 4Gs were fun, but hard to turn prior to building up some speed (warp speed). Damn scary by comparison to a fat ski (or snow board) in the deep wetsnow. Pretty fun blasting through the chop though. It was the kind of day most of us simply didn't bother skiing BITD. Too much work and too easy to sink a tip and get seriously hurt.



Enter my 196cm Dynafit Huascaran. First turnwas easy. Mindless actually with almost exactly half the boot technology on. The previously frightening experience in the chopped up junk became almost (almost) playful by comparison. The entire mountain opened up to me...almost as much as it had been to the snow boarders. The Dynafit ski almostdoubles the surface area on the snow. 115mm under foot as compared to 67mm under foot. And the Dynafit is so much easier to ski in the majority of conditions I see on the hill.



And to be honest of all my skis this 196cm Huascaran isn't the easiest ski I own to ski.



So truth is my skiing skills haven't found a magically fountain of youth and improved skills. Instead I am lucky enough to see the gear improve enough that it haseasily made me a better skier. Imagine what you might be able to do!



"What would Trevor do?"



Dude, he'd change to a fat, rockeredskis.



http://www.denverpost.com/extremes/ci_11874810



More gear geek info here:



http://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive//04/the-power-of-gear-how-technical-equipment-redefines-our-relationship-with-extreme-environments/275177/

Black Bear crossing the Pigeon River

I caught this guy swimming across the river just upstream from the mouth today while kayaking on the river. This was the third time I've seen a bear swimming across the river!

All things Rainier...

More information about the climbing routes and access to them is starting to pour in from our vast network of contributors (you could be one too)... And from the latest reports, getting up and down the Glacier Basin trail won't be so easy this year. Today, the NPS trail-crew leader said, "My initial impressions, given the several feet of snow, is that the route will be impassable to most people and will likely require the full replacement of about one mile of trail." There's more on the Glacier Basin trail in the Updated Route Conditions.

The Seattle PI (in the Getaway Section) did a nice feature on spring access to Mt Rainier. The story covers what's happening, safety, and what visitors may expect once the park reopens. But the best part of the story is that they managed to tag this blog as "all things Rainier." Nice!

Last week, I revisited Camp Muir for the first time in three months. Things there seemed as normal as ever when it comes to spring access... However, things will be different this summer with the new guide services on the mountain. The most notable change will be that the NPS ranger station is moving to the Cook Shack (which is much more centrally located in camp). Also worth noting are the changes to what guide service will be operating out of what facility... AND that there will be a few new weatherports at Camp Muir... When the dust settles on the plan, I'll post more information. In the meantime, the reservation office has been quite busy churning out permits. If you've submitted a climbing reservation, there is a good chance that your confirmation is already in the mail. Pictured right is Seattle Times photogragher Erika Shultz, image by Mike Gauthier.

In other mountaineering news, Phil Ershler (longtime guide for International Mountain Guides) and his wife Susan recently released a book about their quest for the seven summits. In 2002, they became the first known couple to complete the circuit. The Seattle PI did a really nice piece about them, and some of the trials and tribulations, that went on behind the scenes.

Seaside Tandem

Over the weekend we wanted to take our bikes to Cape Cod and cycle on theRail Trail. Unfortunately, our lighter bikes are at the shop and the Pashleys are too heavy for the car's rear rack. Browsing the rail trail brochure, I noticed an advertisement for tandem rentals. Tandems! Within seconds, I was making a reservation.



Our tandem was a modern Fuji mountain-road hybrid, with an aluminum frame and carbon fork. With our mismatched beach attire and sunscreen-streaked faces (it was a hot day) we didn't exactly look glamorous, but it was quite an experience!



Tandem bicycles look charming and fun, which makes them seem easy to ride. I assure you that they are not! Despite Sheldon Brown's detailed description, we did not expect it to be so challenging. The tandemists must learn to coordinate their pedaling and coasting patterns, pedaling cadence, and even their body movements, so as not to disbalance the bicycle by leaning in different directions. This takes some time! Steering, shifting gears, and turning corners require considerable skill.



The person at the front of a tandem is called the Captain, and the person in the back is the Stoker. The job of the Captain is to steer and balance the bicycle, and to control the gearing. The job of the Stoker is to provide extra leg-power on the pedals and maintain the balance.If you are the Stoker, the Captain's back will be your view (inches from your face), unless you turn to the side!



The Co-Habitant was a natural captain and could even ride the tandem stretched out from the rear pedals.



I could not, but I was a good Stoker!



One of the benefits of a tandem, is that it can go very fast. Once we got the hang of operating the bicycle, we were flying on that thing, grinning with delight and leaving other cyclists in the dust. Overall, I prefer to ride an individual bicycle, simply because I like the control and independence. But on occasion, a tandem would be so much fun. It's a tandem!

Forbidden East Ridge Direct ..

Part II
"The Descent"

Steve's glory from the summit (photo by Steve Machuga)

Josh and Matt had told us that it took them about one and half hours to get back to the notch from the summit using the East Ledge descent. They said it was five rappels and then there were cairns on each rib on the traverse back. Most people avoid this descent because as Nelson states "climbers find this 3rd and 4th class descent route to be loose and stressful." Josh and Matt gave us confidence that we should have no problems with it. Plus at 7pm our only other option was to continue down the west ridge, which could not have been faster. If all went well, we should be back at the notch before the sun set.

Steve belayed me quickly back to the summit rap anchor. This was a mess of old slings on a horn on the ridge. The horn appeared sound enough, but we decided to add a sling as all the slings seemed old and tattered. The first rappel appeared to be the steepest. And we could see the next two rap stations from there.

I headed out first careful not to put too much weight on the anchor. About halfway down, Steve yelled to hurry up as it was 7:20pm. We made it to the next anchor which was no less scary than the top anchor and proceeded to rappel. A few raps down and we had difficulty finding the next rap stations. Steve led off on the next rap while I stashed the rack in the pack. By the time we were done with five raps it was a little dark and we could not see any cairns on the first rib. A lot of the beta and the climbeing ranger stated that the big mistake most people make is not descending enough. So, we made a sixth rap.

Still no sign of a cairn on the rib, we decided to head east. Perhaps we'd see it on the next rib? While not fully dark, it was a little too dark to see anything resembling a ledge that is what the route is supposed to traverse. So we carefully picked our way east as the sun set on us. We headed to what appeared to be a cairn on perhaps the second rib over but the ground got too difficult to reach it. (So we assumed it was not correct.) We saw a rap anchor nearby and were able to reach that. Anchored in, we rested our minds a bit, but wanted to keep moving. Now under head lamp, we made another rappel. Steve liked what he saw at the bottom and told me to come down. Once at the end of the rope, there were some larger, more comfortable ledges to stand on. We eyed the next rib and saw easier terrain going to it. We headed toward it.

Once on the rib, we identified a cairn. We were on route. But now it was dark and losing the route could be easy. The terrain and especially the ribs were rocky with many horns and blocks. A cairn could easily hide among all the other spikes on the rib. We continued slowly eastward toward the next rib. The night scrambling was stressful. We took a few minor breaks on larger ledges to rest our brains and take in the beauty of the sky. Unfortunately, there were no spots suitable for a bivy. No ledges were large enough to really sit or lay on, and none offered anchors to tie into. With a possibility of rockfall, our safest option was to keep moving off this technical terrain.

We neared the next rib and could see what looked like a cairn. But by headlamp it could also have been just a horn. We discussed it a bit. Then we headed toward it. It was yet another cairn. We were still on track!

We attempted to maintain a level crossing to the next rib. Going was slow. We kept looking up to the ridge to see if we were under the "solitary gendarme" that marks the start of the route. We reached the next rib to find another cairn. We were still on route and we appeared to be under the gendarme. Time to head up.

Having talked to the ranger and Josh and Matt they all stated that most people take the gully back up to the notch, but that it is preferred to stay on the rib just west of the gully as it is easier terrain. But where we were currently the gully offered the best terrain and we started our upward climb on grassy ledges and blocks. People had clearly been this way, but it did not necessarily look like a well traveled path. After some distance upward, we regained the rib again as that offered easier terrain. We were getting excited. The climbing was getting more stressful. The last bits to the ridge crest were probably low 5th class that we had to solo to make it to the top. Once there, our hearts sank. We headed up too early. We were at the location that marked the end of our fourth pitch earlier that day. (Or technically the day before.)

It was around 1:30am and we had four pitches to climb to return to the relative safety of the notch. We were out of water and hadn't drank any in hours. Nor would we be anywhere soon where we could replenish. We could build an anchor and huddle together until daylight, or we could climb out while we still were running on adrenalin. We sat about a bit admiring the stars and lights of Bellingham before making a decision. (Who knew you could see Forbidden from Bellingham?) The ridge was cold and windy, we wouldn't get any real rest, so we decided to climb. We both felt relief to finally be anchored back into the mountain again.

Steve suggested we lead the same pitches we led earlier as we may remember them. (It seemed like a week ago that we were on the ridge in the daylight. It made our South Early Winter Spire climb seem like last month!) I told him I remembered this pitch to be exposed. He told me it wouldn't matter as you couldn't feel the exposure in the dark.

So I took the rack out of the pack and racked up to lead a pitch on the ridge in the dark. As my headlamp illuminated the terrain it came back to me. Climb over this horn, traverse this rib, over another horn. I was determined to get it done. I stumbled upon the anchor where Steve belayed me on the pitch earlier. It was a sling someone left there. (Perhaps from retreating?) I backed it up with a cam set in what appeared to be a solid crack and yelled "Steve, off belay!" Later we would find it funny that we were using our names being the only people on the mountain. I brought Steve in and we contemplated the next pitch.

We were on top of the first large gendarme on the route. The way off was a steep 5.7 downclimb. We couldn't exactly see which way would continue on the ridge or start us down the face. Luckily for me it was Steve's turn to lead out. Unluckily for me it meant that I would follow the downclimb, which means I would have the danger of leading it. I told Steve to place gear early and often. He led off down the gendarme and off to where his headlamp darted about a bit here and there. Steve was low on gear and trying to build a suitable anchor. After a while of his headlamp darting, he finally yelled "off belay." And I was on my way.

When we were both on top of the gendarme, we contemplated numerous scenarios to get down it. One of which was both of us rapping off the anchor on top. (I told him I didn't like the anchor enough for that.) Another was for him to lead off on the down climb and for me to set up a top rope on the anchor to down climb it. This still relied on the top anchor too much and would also mean leaving gear. A similar option was to rappel off the top anchor after Steve down-climbed the pitch. If the top anchor failed, the top piece of gear should hold my fall. Well, we (or was it I) decided that downclimbing made the most sense. Assuming I didn't fall, there would be no reliance on gear. So I started down.

The climbing down the gendarme was marked by short difficult moves with good stances to finish. Steve placed gear so I would be roughly at a piece for the more difficult moves and should be able to still reach high to remove the gear at the good stances. I got to the first piece, a slung horn, and downclimbed below it. I had difficulty removing it and was about to leave it when I finally had success. Down to the next piece I continued. This continued for a bit until I got to a large slung block. Steve yelled up, "Leave the triple if you have to." I pulled the carabiner off the sling and used it as a hold to climb the next section. A few more lower angle moves and I was at Steve's position ready to continue.

I took what he had left of the rack and didn't bother to trade out the backpack and I continued down. The going was steep. I didn't remember this as well as the previous bits. Then I found a rock with a scar on it that Steve "was heading for" on his first pitch the previous day. I was on track. A bunch of steeper moves and I was back at the belay from the top of our first pitch. I brought Steve down and he arrived at my location with the sentiment that down climbing is hard. Yes, especially in the dark. We discussed where he should head. (We both figured walkable terrain was not too far below us.) And he headed out.

After a few slower moments I was paying out rope quickly. Steve reached walking terrain. Now he had to find an anchor. He built an anchor and belayed me in. We were back at the notch with our stashed gear.

It was around 4:30am and we had been moving for 22 hours straight. Shortly after reaching the notch we heard rock/icefall lower down. We decided to wait until daylight to continue. It was nice to be out of rock shoes for the first time in 19 hours. We put all our clothes on, and just hung out at the notch, glad to be on safer terrain.

My pics are here.

Moving On :: Back in the Lower 48

Wednesday, September 1st - - It was cool this morning when I woke up but there was sunshine and blue skies overhead, for which I was very thankful. After finding free wifi (at a Safeway grocery store!) in Smithers and spending an hour uploading and scheduling blog posts, it was almost eleven o'clock before I was on my way once again.

Yesterday I had gotten to the end of the Cassiar Highway and turned east onto the Yellowhead Highway (Route 16). The last two hours on the Cassiar I saw perhaps two dozen vehicles. That number was surpassed in two minutes on the Yellowhead. It was as though I had turned the corner and gone into a whole different world. Not only was there more traffic, but the landscape was different too. There were still mountains and forests but there were also open areas of pasture and farmland. Houses, and buildings, and utility poles lined the highway for miles. Towns! And traffic! Civilization? Instead of watching out for bears and moose and other four legged critters I had to watch out for other drivers.

I continued east on the Yellowhead Highway to Prince George where I turned south on the Cariboo Highway (Route 97). There was road construction on the Cariboo, which caused some delay but it wasn't too bad although traffic was backed up for quite a ways. In one section they had completely torn up the road bed and it was a big mess. Concentrating on getting through that area I caught a glimpse of something walking along the side of the highway. I couldn't hardly believe my eyes – it was a black bear! And a pretty good-sized one too. There were no construction workers nearby so no one was in any immediate danger but still, it was there amongst all the noise and traffic, out in the open, and I could see it in my rear-view mirror as I drove on.

A short time later I stopped at the Canyon Creek Campground and RV Park in Hixon, about 35 miles south of Prince George. It had been a short driving day, only 265 miles. And it was only 410 miles more to the U.S. Border.

I would be remiss in not mentioning the fact that today - September 1, .. - marks the beginning of the second year of this incredible journey. One year ago I embarked upon an odyssey that has taken me places I had only dreamed of and some places that I had never heard of...

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Thursday, September 2nd - - It was another chilly morning. Cloudy but no rain. Continued heading south on the Cariboo Highway to Cache Creek where I turned west onto Trans-Canada Highway 1. By the time I got to Cache Creek at two o'clock the temperature had risen to 74 degrees – the warmest temperature I'd seen in three weeks! And it felt good. At 4:30, even though I was only about 60 miles from the U.S. border, I stopped for the night at the Telte-Yet Campground in Hope, British Columbia - it was 77 in the shade! Awesome. After paying for the campsite, I had $10 in Canadian currency left and figured this would be my last night in Canada, so I walked across the steet to Dairy Queen and had a banana split to commemorate the occasion!

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Friday, September 3rd - - Sunny skies once again. Left Hope at 9:30 this morning and got to the Sumas, Washington border crossing at 10:45 along with lots of other vehicles. I lucked out and got into a fast-moving lane - it only took twenty minutes to get through. There was no fancy sign, like in Alaska, welcoming me back – just this electronic billboard flashing its message...

I was “home” again, and happy to be here!