Columbus Day Weekend

In what has become a near-annual tradition, Seth and I headed north to the White Mountains for a Columbus Day camping trip. This is always a fun trip that lets the cousins spend some time together. Seth's girls always a bewildered by Calvin's behavior, which is typical of a teenage boy. Calvin tries his best to make sure they are bewildered.

Since it was October, the weather is a roll of the dice. In the past, we've endured wind, rain and cold. This year, it was cold the first night but otherwise the weather was perfect. As we gathered around the campfire to cook our "highly nutritious" hot dogs, the temperature dropped into the low 30's. We piled on the layers of clothing and finished the meal with s'mores.

After a cold night's sleep, we went out for a large breakfast to prepare for our hike. The hike is usually a source of tension since I haven't always chosen well. Two years ago, we decided to hike Mt. Webster and Mt. Jackson. The guide book called for a four hour hike, but we ended up needing nearly seven. The last hour of the hike was in the dark, without lights, and I still hear about it.

Determined not to repeat my mistake, I decided that Mt. Jefferson would be a good choice. The hike up Jefferson is a relatively short, five mile round trip. To make it interesting, much of the hike is above tree line and very rugged.

The start of the hike is deceptively easy, climbing gently for awhile. Before long, the trail starts to head up steeply, with only a brief break before heading above tree line. Once above tree line, the real fun starts. On the way to the summit, there are three large mounds of rock in the way. The trail leads you up and over each of them. This requires a fair amount of scrambling over rocks, using your hands almost as much as your feet in some sections.

Throughout the day, gliders were soaring overhead, riding the wind that we couldn't feel from the trail. In all my years of hiking, it was the first time I'd ever seen gliders.

At the summit, we were no longer sheltered from the wind, so we didn't linger. On the way down, the steep sections were more daunting and required some care. Although they were sometimes intimidated, everyone made it down without incident.

There wasn't too much complaining this year, so I think I did a better job of choosing the hike. It also helped that we made it back to the car before dark.

Bureaucrat Beatdown

I have written previously about the decision by Pennsylvania officials to eliminate the feeding of bread to the carp at the Linesville Spillway. A decades old family tradition of tossing bread to the fish was being shutdown.

Apparently, I was not alone in my displeasure with this decision.

A few weeks ago, a public meeting was held to discuss the situation and 350 people showed up. This was the first opportunity for the public to voice their displeasure about the decision and they did not hold back.

Parents were there with their young children, mourning the loss of a low-cost family destination. Local business owners complained about the loss of tourist dollars. Over half a million people visit the spillway each year, spending an estimated $5 million.

Officials heard the message and decided to delay the decision for a year to allow for greater study of the issue. Hopefully, a year is long enough for them to come to their senses.

National Champions Again

The 2008 Canoe Orienteering National Championship was held on the St. Joseph River in Bristol, Indiana. The weather was beautiful, as was the river. We were the defending National Champions, so the pressure was on to defend our title.

Canoe orienteering is different from other canoe races. In some ways, it mimics the way you might navigate on a wilderness canoe trip where you navigate from campsite to campsite using your map. While there are no campsites in canoe orienteering, you are given a map and you do use it to navigate.

Just before starting, you receive your map and a small sheet of paper with numbered boxes. The map highlights a number of locations that each competitor must visit. At each location, there is an orange and white marker and a punch with a unique pattern. The punch is used to mark your control card to prove that you visited the location. The person or team who visits the most control locations wins. In the event of a tie, the fastest time wins. It isn't always the fastest paddlers who win. The key to winning a canoe orienteering event is choosing the best route.

The course in Bristol required travel both upstream and downstream. It included island clusters and shallow water and a meandering stream near Hermance Park. There were plenty of opportunities for creative route selection.

The teams started two minutes apart with some paddlers heading upstream and others heading downstream. Seth and I decided to start downstream. We reasoned that the long upstream paddle against a fairly strong current would be better if it were earlier when we were still fresh.

We paddled directly to control 1, ducked under the tree it was attached to and headed for control 2. We quickly decided that the best approach would be "split and go". Seth, who was in the bow, jumped out of the boat and ran to control 2. Meanwhile, I also jumped out of the boat and ran through the shallow channel between the islands with the canoe in tow. When Seth rejoined me, we started paddling again.

At this point, we spotted the team who had started two minutes before us. They were wading upstream through the shallow water while we were trying to paddle in the same water. We briefly considered wading ourselves, but Seth observed that even though the paddling was tough, we were going about the same speed as the other team.

We continued paddling upstream punching controls along the way, though we decided to save control 5 for later. Control 11 was in a channel splitting an island in two. We reached the control at about the same time as another team and we decided to "split and go." Again, I ran with the canoe through the channel and waited in the middle of the river for Seth to rejoin me.

Next was Control 10, which was tied to a partially submerged tree. When we arrived, another boat was busy punching their control card, so I instructed Seth to jump out of the canoe and wade to the control. This way we wouldn't have to wait for them to pull away from the submerged tree. When the water went up past Seth's waist, I knew we had made a bit of a mistake. He was going to have a hard time getting back in the canoe, especially if I didn't get in the water, too. After a minor struggle, we both re-boarded the canoe and finished collecting the upstream controls.

All that was left for us was to decide what to do about control 5. There were a couple of options we considered. One was to paddle to the control and then portage to the finish at Hermance Park. The other was to paddle to Hermance Park and have Seth run to the control and return to the finish.

We decided to paddle to the control and it turned out to be the right move. The control wasn't as far up the stream as the map showed, so we punched the control and quickly returned to the main river and paddled to the finish. Others, who decided to run to control 5 encountered stinging nettles and came out of the woods complaining. I could relate since I had a similar experience with saw grass at the National Championships in Peshtigo, Wisconsin.

Throughout the race, we had no idea how we were doing against who we considered our primary competition. They had started at different times and we never saw them until the finish. In the end, we finished with the fastest overall time - 54:09. We were relieved since we had set that as our goal beforehand.

Bureaucratic Killjoys

I'm taking a break from my usual topics to lament what appears to be the end of an iconic tourist destination - the Linesville Spillway, aka "Where the Ducks Walk on the Fish." For those unfamiliar with the Spillway, it is a place where an uncountable number of carp gather to feed on the bread so generously provided by the tourists.

When you arrive at the Spillway, you are first struck by the sheer number of carp gathered. It is truly astounding. Looking closer, you notice how many of the fish have their gaping mouths turned skyward awaiting another piece of bread. Eventually, you open your own bread bag and join in the fun. As each slice of bread floats to the water, you are surprised again and again with how quickly the fish can consume the bread. With each slice, you aim for a spot, which is likely to cause the greatest commotion. If you are lucky, someone may have even thrown in a loaf of Italian bread to see how long it would survive. Through it all, you are mesmerized.

Slowly, you begin to ponder what would happen to anyone unfortunate enough to fall into the water. You retell stories you've heard of small children who fell in, never to be seen again. None of these stories are true, of course, but they certainly add to the mystique.

Sadly, this is all about to end. It was recently announced that the State would be banning the use of bread for feeding the carp. Instead, you'll be able to toss pelletized fish food to the carp. Now I ask, where is the fun in that?

If you find yourself in northwest PA this summer, make sure you don't miss the chance to enjoy this wonderful place. I know I will be visiting this summer.

And in the civil disobedient spirit of Thoreau, I may just be in Linesville on January 1st, with a bag of stale baguettes, feeding the carp who are wise enough to swim past the pellets of fish food.

Bike Ride to Maine - Wrap Up

It's been a week since my ride to Maine and it's time to reflect on what went well and what didn't.

The Route
I used the Garmin MapSource software with the City Navigator maps to plan my route. You can instruct the software to calculate a route for a bicycle and it tries to choose appropriate roads. Even still, I had difficulty knowing whether the chosen roads were good ones for cycling. As it turns out, New Hampshire publishes some bicycle maps, which show roads suitable for bikes. These maps helped keep me off some busier roads. Apparently, Maine has similar maps, but they are not available online.

Navigation
I decided that I would use my Garmin 60 CSx GPS for navigation. With the City Navigator maps loaded, the GPS was able to calculate the route. This worked great. At times, I would stray from the chosen route and a new one would be quickly recalculated.

Mounted on the handlebar, I could see exactly where I was going and where I needed to go. If there was any criticism, the advance warning for turns was inadequate when traveling in the city. More than once I needed to make a left turn and it was too late to move over to make the turn.

Attire
Just before I departed, I decided to wear mountain bike shorts. I figured that having pockets when I stopped would be useful for carrying money, my GPS and other items I didn't want to leave with the bike. The shorts are very comfortable, but the chamois just wasn't up to the task. By about mile 50, I was wishing that I had worn other shorts. For the second day, I wore road shorts under the mountain shorts and that was just right.

Tools
I had some problems with my crankset or bottom bracket. In trying to diagnose the problem I tried tightening the chainring bolts. In order to do this, I needed two hex wrenches. With a single multi-tool, this was impossible. In the end, I lived with the squeaking bottom bracket and fixed it at home. For a long tour, I would probably take more tools.

Food
With the exception of lunch on the first day, I didn't eat too much during the ride - mostly Sharkies and Kind bars. In order to keep my food and cell phone handy, I purchased a Bento Box, which mounts on the top tube. This I liked a lot.

Bike
I used my commuter bike, a Soma Juice 29er mountain bike, for the trip. A number of people asked why I decided to ride the bike I did. All I can say is I love this bike. It has a nice ride and it handles well.

Bike Ride to Maine - Day 2

I've arrived safely at my destination and I'm getting ready to crack open a beer and relax on the porch.

Today's ride was much shorter than yesterday, only 52 miles, and there weren't as many hills. It was much windier, though.

About an hour into the ride, I started to notice a squeak when I was pedaling. It was driving me crazy and it continued to worsen. I stopped a few times to see if I could find the source, but it was no use.

When I arrived at the dock to catch the boat to the island, I ate a platter of fried seafood. I had thinking about that all day.

All in all, this was a good introduction to bicycle touring. I saw parts of New Hampshire and Maine that I had never seen before. I saw looks of amazement when I told people how far I was riding. Most of all, I accomplished something, which I had set out to do.

Now, back to that beer.

Bike Ride to Maine - Day 1

I successfully completed the first leg of my journey to Maine. With my fully loaded bike weighing in at 50 lbs, I traveled 89 miles in under six hours. Although, the bike accelerated like someone was holding on to the seatpost, it otherwise handled well.

The GPS I used for navigation did a great job getting me to my destination while keeping me off of the major roads.

Overall, the day went well, though I was really tired by the end. That hill at mile 84 certainly wasn't welcome. I'm looking foward to what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully, my legs (and butt) will be up to the challenge.

Mobile Blogging - Take 1

I'm about to hit the road on a two-day, 140-mile bicycle ride to
Maine. Before leaving, I wanted to try adding a blog post from my
phone. If this works, you may be able to read about my adventure
before I plant my butt in front of the computer again.

Finally, A Suitable Bike Rack

From the time I started biking to work, I used a backpack to carry my clothes to work. This worked well, but I came to realize that using the backpack was leading to the lower back pain that I was experiencing. It was time for a better solution.

I started by deciding whether to use a rack-top bag or panniers. Since I don't typically carry a laptop and I rarely need to carry much, I opted for a Arkel Tail Rider. This is a very nice bag. I also found some Deuter Rack Pack II panniers for a great price. I use these when I need to carry more than will fit in the Tail Rider.

Next, I needed to find a rack, which would fit on my bike, a Soma Juice. This was complicated by a few factors. First, I'm using disc brakes, so the lower part of the rack needs to be wider than normal. Next, the frame doesn't have upper rack mounts, so I would need to use p-clamps or some other solution. Finally, because this is a 29er mountain bike frame, it supports big knobby tires and many racks aren't tall enough.

I started by trying to use an old Blackburn rack, which I had used many years before. This didn't have enough clearance for the rear fender. I also had an older Topeak seat post rack laying around, so I gave that a try.

Happy to be riding without a backpack, I left for work with my new setup. I immediately noticed that weight of the bag and seatpost rack. There was no side-to-side motion, but I felt the weight pulling the saddle and seatpost back. The effect was even more pronounced when climbing. Clearly, this would not do.

The next stop on my search for a rack was the Axiom Journey Disc, which is designed to deal with disc brakes. This was a much better option than the seatpost rack, but it still had problems. First of all, the special hardware to deal with the disk brakes stuck out about an inch, making it difficult, if not impossible, to mount a pannier on that side. The other problem, and this was the deal killer, was that the vertical stays were designed to fit a mountain bike with 26" wheels, so there was not enough vertical clearance if I used the rack/fender eyelets. I tried using p-clamps to mount the rack to the seat stays, but it just wasn't stable enough.

Next in line was Soma Disc Brake Rack. I had looked at this rack earlier, but for whatever reason, I decided that there were better options. This rack is designed to deal with disc brakes and has an adjustable height. This rack was much easier to mount and so far, it's been working well.

General Clinton Canoe Regatta

Just one year after we started racing canoes, my attention was drawn to a race in upstate New York - the General Clinton Canoe Regatta. This is a 70-mile brute of a race, which starts in Cooperstown, NY and travels down the Susquehenna River to the finish line in Bainbridge, NY. The sheer number of boats participating in the race is impressive - nearly 240 canoes and kayaks over three different start times. This was our sixth year and it was one of the hardest.

The race starts on the shores of Otsego Lake with 80 canoes poised to sprint across the lake to a buoy turn before starting down the river. The starts are always chaotic with barely enough room to paddle. There are crisscrossing waves trying to throw your canoe off course and threatening to flip your boat. Because of this, we've adopted a "stay out of the crap" approach to the start by lining up far to the left. This works well and we usually don't have to deal with waves until we get close to the buoy turn. This year, however, we had a great start and made it clean around the buoy and didn't have to deal with the waves until we were nearly in the river.

The first part of the river is known as the Swamp. This section is twisty and narrow with a good amount of current and a lot of debris in the water. Every turn brings a new surprise with downed trees blocking your way and submerged trees lurking just below the surface. You are also dealing with many canoes and a lot of adrenaline since it is still early in the race. In preparation for this section, we pre-run a five mile section to see what we are in for on race day and we were pleased to find that it was the cleanest we had ever seen it.

Eventually, the river slows down, getting wider and straighter. This is the time to find a group of canoes to paddle with. Similar to bike racing, there is a substantial benefit to paddling in a group. Each canoe throws off waves as it travels through the water. If you paddle in front of the waves from another canoe, you can go faster while using less energy. This also serves as a sort of "pace car" since you are willing to put in a little extra effort at times to make sure you don't lose the pack.

In past years, we've tried to join a pack of canoes, but we struggled to stay on the wave. This year was different. Our ability ride another wake has improved dramatically and we were in a large pack of canoes for a long time. This contributed greatly to how well we did over the first half of the course.

After the Goodyear Lake portage, there is always some good current from the dam release. This feels great after spending a few hours on slow-moving flat water. But there was a problem this year. For some reason, it didn't look like there had been a release from the dam. The big waves, which had scared us our first year, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, the water was shallow and not too fast. Knowing that our weakness is shallow water, we knew we were in for a long day.

The rest of the day consisted of finding the deeper channels when possible and dodging the rocks in the shallows. We were able to do this much better than in years past, yet we were still forced to get out of the canoe several times and carry our boat across some very shallow sections.

The lower section of the river seems to drag on forever and you are continually battling the ebbs and flows of your energy level. One thing that helps is the number of people cheering you along the way. In addition to the cheers of strangers, we had much of our family there, too, which is always nice.

After crossing the finish line, you pull up alongside a dock and try to get out of your boat. After ten long hours, you are tired and your legs are a bit wobbly. Though we did okay, we watched some people who could barely stand.

In the end, we finished 15th out of forty boats - our highest finish ever. We felt strong for most of the race and we were moving forward within our class for most of the day.

And of course, we are already thinking about doing it next year.

Commuting in the Spring

This was a wonderful day to bike to work. A beautiful clear day with no wind. The flowers are in bloom, bringing with them the wonderful fragrance of spring.

The ride to work started as most do - passing all the cars, which are stopped in traffic in the center of town. I rolled past some apple orchards and some farms before passing the hospital. A short time later, I rode through a small neighborhood before hitting my favorite part of the ride - crossing the causeway over Sandy Pond.

On this day, I was even looking forward to riding down "Stinky Farm" road since the lilacs were sure to mask the normally awful stench. I approached the most difficult intersection of my commute and was pleased to see that there were no cars coming from either direction. I started across and was on my way to "Stinky Farm" road.

"What the ....!"

Once I was halfway across the road, I spotted the car pulling out from the gas station. The driver was looking down the road and never looked my way before pulling out. I tried to take evasive maneuvers, but I didn't have time. Soon enough, I was on the pavement.

I took a quick inventory and realized I wasn't hurt too badly. I think I was yelling at the driver before I even got up from the ground.

She apologized repeatedly and said, "I didn't even see you. Where did you come from?" - admissions of guilt as far as I am concerned. I gathered her information and said I would be in touch to let her know what it would cost to repair my bike. I also was able to get the name and number of a witness.

The rear wheel was trashed, making it impossible to ride the bike. I called home and waited for my ride. While I waited, I looked the bike over and was amazed that most of the damage was superficial. When my ride arrived, I took off my helmet and was surprised to see that I had obviously hit the back of my head when I fell. The helmet had done a wonderful job.

As the day went on, I started feeling the injuries I sustained - a sprained wrist, bruises and a couple of cuts and abrasions. Upon further reflection, I realize how lucky I was not to have sustained any significant injuries. Had the driver accelerated quickly, I would have been hit with a much greater force and may have even been run over. Also, with the exception of the rear wheel, the bike was fixed with only a couple of hours of work.

What did I learn?

• Always where a helmet (something I already do)
• Drivers don't see you, even on days with perfect visibility
  
• Always use blinking lights to draw attention to yourself

And did I mention that this all happened during "Bike to Work" week. How's that for irony.

Run of the Charles

The Run of the Charles is the first race of the season for us. This 19-mile race starts in the suburbs of Boston and finishes near downtown Boston. Of all the races we compete in, this one has the best mix of racing canoes, kayaks and recreational canoes. It holds a special place for us since it was the first race we competed in.

Each race has it's own unique flavor. This one is marked by the number of portages. Six different times, we hop out of the boat, hoist it on our shoulders and run over trails and city sidewalks until the next put-in is reached. It's exhausting and it always feels great to get back in the canoe.

This spring, there hasn't been much rain so the river water level was much lower than typical. Paddling in shallow water is a weakness for us, so we expected it to be a long day. We just didn't know how long.

At the first portage, Seth hung his feet over the edge of the boat into the water to slow us down. His one foot caught a rock and before he knew it, he was flopping around in the water. He regained his footing and we started down the trail.

The race was went well after that. We were battling a couple of other canoes and the portages went better than the first. After portaging the Moody Street dam, the river is narrow and the water was shallow. We had done well on the portage and were putting in an effort in order to put some distance on the trailing canoe. Suddenly, Seth says, "Watch out!" and we hit a rock and I'm out of the boat and in the water. Amazingly, he stays in the boat.

Not five minutes later, Seth says, "Oh, shit!" and we hit another rock. Again, I'm in the water and Seth stays in the boat. This time, the canoe behind us took some evasive moves and thankfully avoided running into me as I lay in the water.

By this time, we were pretty discouraged and we still needed to get past the breached dam in Watertown. This has been a trouble spot for us in the past. Last year, we went for a swim. As we approached, we were were in a pretty good position, but we started drifting into the standing waves. The boat suddenly tips dramatically and we were all but going for the swim. But something different happened. We both fought it as hard as we could and we managed to stay upright. It was a miracle.

The rest of the race was uneventful as we cruised to the finish. We finished first, second and last - we were the only canoe in our category.

Mt. Osceola and East Osceola

On March 16th, our group of hikers, Greg, Tom, Chris and myself headed to the Greeley Pond Trail to climb East Osceola and Osceola. This is an out-and-back hike with 3100 feet of climbing over 7.6 miles. The day was slightly overcast with the temperature in the 20's. There was hope that the afternoon would bring clearer skies.

The hike started with a pleasant 1.3 mile walk through hardwood forest before it meeting up with the Mt. Osceola trail. This trail climbs the steep slope of East Osceola with most of the climbing over a 0.5 mile section. Crampons were required and Greg broke all sorts speed records when he finally decided to put them on.

The climb was very steep and tiring. Each time we rounded a bend, there was another long steep section. Finally, we reached the ridge and the climbing was over - for now. By this time Greg and Tom had eased into a leisurely pace in preparation for their "picnic" lunch.

Chris and I followed the ridge and after crossing the summit of East Osceola (don't blink or you missed it) we descended steeply to the col and headed toward Osceola. On the way, we came to a very step section where we were presented with two options - a steep climb up an icy "chimney" or a steep, semi-exposed climb around the "chimney". Since the chimney required the use of an ice axe, something we didn't have, we opted for the path around the chimney.

Continuing on, we reached the Osceola summit, which was completely in the clouds, paused briefly and started our return. The descent around the chimney was more exposed than we recalled and we nervously descended, hoping our crampons would hold tight.

The steep descent of East Osceola was a lot of work and Chris was overheating. After some encouragement, he decided to cool off by making a face print in the snow.

Being just before the start of spring, this was the last winter hike of the season. It was a great way to finish.

Back on the Water

After several months away from the water, I finally returned this past weekend. I enjoy many outdoor winter activities, so I usually wait until the weather warms up and the snow is gone before I load the canoe on the car. With all the snow we've received this year and the fast approaching race season, I couldn't afford that luxury this year. So on Saturday morning, I cleared yet another snowfall off of my car, mounted the Yakima rack on the roof and loaded up the canoe.

I headed to the Charles River in Newton to meet my brother Seth. The water was high and cold, so we would be paddling our most stable single canoes (Wenonah Advantage). Seth had already paddled a few times this year and I was still suffering from a rib injury. I expected to struggle to keep up.

From the start, my ribs were hurting, but I did my best to block out the pain. We paddled up river as far as we could, battling strong current in many spots. Of course, the return paddle was a lot of fun.

Along the way, we spotted numerous swans, ducks and geese - and a very large fake alligator.

We ended up paddling about 8 miles and finished loading the canoes onto the cars just before the suddenly vigilant state police came to chase us out of the parking lot before dusk.

Laziness Turns Into Stupidity

As a bike commuter, this is the time of year where difficult decisions need to be made concerning the choice of tires. Many days the roads are wet from snow melt, but it is warm enough that none of the snow melt freezes. On other days, there can be icy patches as temperatures drop overnight and turn all that snow melt into black ice.

Today was one of those days.

Over the weekend, there was substantial rainfall with the temperatures dropping on Sunday. There also was a lot of wind, which did a good job of drying everything out. I had several debates with myself about putting the studded tires back on my bike. I had just removed them last week, as it seemed spring was coming round the bend. In the end, I convinced myself that everything would be dry and any icy patches could be avoided. Mostly, I was being lazy.

As I rode in, I was confident I had made the right choice since the roads really were dry and the few trouble spots were mostly slush. Even where there was ice, it wasn't very smooth, so the tires crossed it without problem.

That would all come to an abrupt end later in the ride.

As I approached one of the worst sections of road on my whole commute, I could see that there was ice spanning the entire road. It was similar to other ice I had encountered earlier - crusty with some slush. I slowed down and proceeded cautiously. I was about two thirds of the way across when my front wheel started sliding out from under me. I went down hard, bounced, flipped over and spun around on the ice. Fortunately, the approaching car had stopped before the ice and as I lay there trying to unclip out of my pedals, the driver was asking me if I was OK - earning high marks in my book.

Mechanically, the end result was a broken rear fender, a broken headlight (Dinotte 200L) and broken handlebar mount for my other light (L&M Arc Li-Ion). Physically, I have two sore wrists, a bruise on my knee, a sore chest and a slight abrasion on my chin. Mentally, I'm just angry with myself for being so lazy and stupid.

Tonight, the studded tires go back on the bike.

Studded Shoes

Riding with studded tires is great. You get traction on ice and you are able to ride in conditions you normally wouldn't be able to ride in. They work so well that when you stop on ice and put your foot down, you are astonished when your feet don't have the same traction.

I've been thinking about ways to solve this problem for more than a year. I've thought about using one of the many traction attachments (Stabilicers, YakTrax) and trimming them to leave the pedal cleat exposed. Just from looking at the pictures of the traction attachments, I didn't think they would hold up if I started cutting them apart. Eventually, I decided that there wasn't a good solution.

Yesterday, I became more motivated. I was riding along a trail and encountered a difficult section of mud, water, ice and frozen leaves. The trail was lined with ice and I was looking for a good place to put my put down. I found a spot, unclipped and when I put my foot down, I fell faster than I thought possible. I had found a small patch of clear ice that was thin enough to see through to the leaves.

After work, I started looking at a pair of Stabilicers that I already owned. These have replaceable cleats, so I took one out to see what it looked like. These are essentially screws with a head designed to grip well on ice. I removed a few of the cleats and screwed them into the rubber sole of my mountain bike shoes. I experimented with the placement of the cleats and made sure I could still clip into my pedals. I ended up with three on the outside edge of the shoe and two on the heel.

This morning, I gave these a try and though the weren't perfect, they worked pretty well. I just needed to be aware that there was no traction on the inside edge of the shoe. I'll experiment some more to see if I can get better coverage.

A bit of advice - don't walk inside with the studded shoes on.

Mt. Liberty (but not Flume)

February 10th saw me returning to the White Mountains for another winter hike. The target this time was Mt. Liberty and Mt. Flume, the two southernmost peaks on Franconia Ridge. The forecast called for temperatures in the upper 20's with winds gusting up to 25 mph with worsening conditions in the late afternoon. My hiking companions were Chris, Greg and Tom.

We started at the Basin parking area and walked down the bike path to the beginning of the Liberty Spring Trail. Even though it had snowed the night before, the snow wasn't deep and the snowshoes stayed on the pack.

As soon as the trail started upward, I realized that I had overdressed. I was sweating badly even after removing most of the layers I was wearing. Everyone else was sweating, too.

Eventually, Chris and I pushed on ahead. Greg and Tom had decided before we even left the car that they weren't going to hike to Mt. Flume. They would hike to Mt. Liberty and wait for us at the Liberty Spring tentsite while Chris and I hiked to Mt. Flume.

As the trail became steeper, we decided to put on our snowshoes, mostly for better traction. As an added benefit, the slope was perfect for using the Televator heel lifter on my MSR Lightning Ascent snowshoes. This amazing device makes it seem like you are walking up stairs.

With the extra weight of the snowshoes and the increased steepness, I was sweating even more. My shirt was soaked and so was my hair. I put on a hat to control the sweat and to make sure I was staying warm enough. At the same time, my legs were getting tired. I began to think that it wasn't a good idea to continue on to Mt. Flume. We talked about it a bit and agreed to turn around after reaching the Mt. Liberty summit.

Near the summit, we paused to put on some warmer clothes. The wind was blowing at a good clip and visibility was low because of all the snow blowing around. Properly clothed, we climbed the last little bit to the summit.

The descent was very quick and it wasn't long before we reached Greg and Tom, who were just wrapping up a picnic-style lunch. We continued the descent while the snow started to fall more steadily.

At one point, we stopped to shed a layer and have a bite to eat. Just before we started off again, the winds kicked up and we were instantly in blizzard conditions. I've never seen the weather change so fast. The winds were blowing hard and snow was blowing everywhere. It continued this way for the rest of the hike.

We didn't make it to Mt. Flume, but it was still a great hike. Until you've been in the mountains in the winter, you can't imagine the beauty that surrounds you.

Studded Tires - Very Nice!

Since I began commuting by bike, I've been making do with non-studded tires. For the most part, this led to only a few nervous moments while approaching icy patches. I've used studded tires on my mountain bikes and know how well they work on ice, so I didn't hesitate to order some for my commuter bike.

As I've mentioned in the past, I decided to buy a pair of Schwalbe Marathon Winter tires. Even though I received the tires a few weeks back, I waited until the conditions were appropriate to put them to the test.

After a few weeks of relatively dry weather, the weather turned ugly - multiple days with snow changing to freezing rain, changing to rain then freezing solid. The time was right.

I had read about people having difficulty mount these tires on the wheels, so I was prepared for a wrestling match. This didn't happen since I was able to mount the tires without even using a tire lever.

After using the tires on five commutes with varying snow, ice and dry conditions, I have to say I am very happy with the tires. They held tight through all conditions and I was able to ride confidently on some roads I would be nervous walking on. The downside is that the tires are heavier than what I am used to and they are louder on dry pavement that my other tires. A small price to pay for being able to keep riding.

Skinnier Tires At Last

When I started riding my Soma Juice for commuting, it was still a mountain bike with a suspension fork, a suspension seatpost and 2.25" Kenda Nevegal knobby tires. I quickly swapped to a rigid fork and a standard seatpost. The next step was to find some appropriate tires.

I had a pretty good idea what I wanted. It should be a tire that would roll well, but had enough tread to handle the sand on the road. I also wanted to be able to ride on some moderate trails. After searching long and hard, I settled on a pair of Schwalbe Marathon Cross (700x38) tires. These tires have an almost smooth herringbone pattern down the center with some small knobbies along the sides. With all of the snow on the ground, it will be a while before I can try these on the trail, but they certainly do the trick on the road.

With the new tires installed, I was able to put on some full-coverage fenders. I chose a set of SKS P45 fenders, which are pretty nice - for fenders. The front fender was a bit tricky to install, though. Because the fork is suspension corrected and meant for MTB tires, there is about four inches of clearance between the top of the tire and the underside of the crown. The fender wasn't designed for so much clearance so I needed to fashion my own mounting bracket. I used some metal strapping and mounted a U-shaped piece to the brake mount. I then mounted the fender to the metal strapping. Problem solved.

Mount Washington

I had just finished reading Heft on Wheels by Mike Magnuson, a story of an overweight smoker who transformed himself into a well-fit cyclist. On his path to fitness, he joins a group ride from a local bike shop and has his butt handed to him. Determined not to let that happen anymore, he eventually fought his way to be able to complete some of the most grueling hill climbing bicycle races.

While I'm not personally an overweight smoker, I was inspired enough to attempt one of the most difficult hillclimb races there is, the Mount Washington Hillclimb. This race is a mere 7.6 miles, but it has an average grade of 12% with extended sections of 18%. As someone once told me, it occasionally flattens out to 10% grade. I've known others who'd ridden the race and I always had it in the back of my mind that I would one day give it a try. So I forked over my $300 donation and registered for the race.

I worried about everything - gearing, training, whether I could do it, etc.

For gearing, I eventually settled on using a mountain cassette (11-34) and an Ultegra triple with modified gearing (48-36-26). To use this gearing, I used an XT derailleur with standard Ultegra shifters. For race day, I dropped the big chainring and the rear brake to save weight.

I trained on many of the local hills, but nothing approached the steepness I would encounter. On a family vacation, I sought the biggest hills I could find as we traveled across Wyoming in an RV. About a month before race day, I wanted to test my gearing on the steepest local climb I could find - the Pack Monadnock auto road. This road is steep, but it is only about a mile and a quarter long. I rode my bike there using the hilliest route I could find and my legs were good and tired when I started the final climb. This climb was far tougher than I expected and my confidence took a big hit. It forced me to question my gearing choice and it forced me to question my ability to finish Mount Washington.

Race day was rapidly approaching and I was getting nervous. I felt I had trained well enough, but my Pack Monadnock experience was fresh in my mind. About a week before the race, I expressed my concerns to my brother Seth. My confidence was bolstered by what my brother Seth told me. He had ridden Mount Washington twice and he said, "It's nothing compared to the General Clinton." For those non-canoe racers (almost everyone), the General Clinton is a 70-mile race, which takes more than nine hours to complete - plenty of time to suffer. With a goal of 1:30 for Mount Washington, I figured that I could endure.

Early on race day, I gathered at the base of the mountain along with 600 other riders. The summit was in the clouds and a misty rain was moving in. At the appointed time, I went to the starting line and with a cannon blast, the race was on. After a short sprint over the only flat stretch, the road turned left and headed up - steeply. I pedaled steadily and felt great. Adrenaline is your friend. I was ahead of my pace and my heart rate was in a very comfortable zone. I kept spinning those pedals using all of the gears I had, but never feeling like I wanted more. Don't get me wrong, it was hard work, but I was enduring.

The real fun starts once you get above tree line. You get blasted by wind as it finds its way between rocks and across the road. Once I nearly crossed someone else's line when the wind pushed me sideways a couple of feet. The most exciting moment came when there was a hairpin turn directly into the wind - a 30-40 mph wind. The inside line was very steep so I stayed to the outside. As I did so, I witnessed two people, who had taken the inside line, get blown over. They were lying on the ground still clipped into their pedals. At the same time, the guy right in front of me decided he had had enough and unclipped and stopped. I took evasive action and quickly veered toward the cyclists sprawled on the ground. I rode between the two of them and headed directly into the wind. I had no forward motion left and was forced to unclip.

Having unclipped, the trick was getting back on the bike. I made a couple of attempts, but there was no chance. I walked about 1/4 mile up the rode before it turned away from the wind and I was able to get back on the bike.

The finish wasn't far off, but I couldn't tell how far. The summit was totally in the clouds and visibility was only a few feet. The only clue that I getting close were all the people along the side of the road. The final pitch is 22% grade and I couldn't see the finish line until I crossed it one hour and thirty minutes after I started, right at my target.

Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing about my gearing. I probably could have pushed harder since I wasn't totally spent when I finished. And Seth was right, the General Clinton is much, much harder.

Obscure Water Sports

My introduction to marathon canoe racing came by accident.

My brother Seth and I had done a lot of canoeing when we were younger. Our parents owned a summer house on a lake and we often went on long paddles around the lake. In high school, we expanded our adventures and took annual 10-day trips to Algonquin Provincial Park in Ontario with a church group. After high school, we made a few more trips on our own. We felt we were pretty good paddlers.

All that would change a few years later when Seth suggested that we enter a local canoe race - the Run of the Charles. As we waited at the starting line, a few canoes from a longer race came flying by. These were the strangest looking canoes we had ever seen. They sat low in the water and were built for speed. When our race started, we were astonished at the intensity of the other paddlers. Even though we hadn't expected to, we also paddled hard and wound up in fourth place. We were hooked.

The next year we raced again and finished first in our category. Brimming with confidence, we decided to participate in the 70-mile General Clinton Canoe Regatta. About a third of the way through this race, a kind paddler explained that we had no clue what we were doing. I seem to recall him saying, "You'll never finish if you keep paddling like that." He gave us a quick tutorial and was on his way. We did finish that race, as we have every year since.

We race a lot more now and we race in those strange-looking racing canoes. We've won some races, but mostly we've been humbled by the skill of more experienced paddlers. Nonetheless, we've had fun doing it.

Too Much Snow on the Trails

With all of the snow we've had this winter, mountain biking hasn't been an option. I've still been getting out on the trails on snowshoes and XC skis, but I needed to fill the cycling void. The solution - start commuting to work by bicycle. With a 27 mile round trip commute, I'll be able to stay in shape until the trails open up.

The first step was to convert one of the bikes in my stable to a foul weather commuter bike. The perfect choice was my Soma Juice 29er. This bike been collecting dust since a nasty crash on the trails last summer (operator error/incompetence).

I swapped out the RockShox Reba fork and the Thudbuster seatpost and I had fully rigid bike I could use for commuting. Although I'm still running the knobbies, pedaling every inch of the ride, I'm awaiting shipment of some more appropriate commuter tires - Schwalbe Marathon Cross and Schwalbe Marathon Winter (studded). I'll probably use the Marathon Winter tires until the warm weather returns.

For lights, I'm using a Light & Motion Arc Li-Ion on the handlebar. In addition, I have a Dinotte 200L LED light mounted on my helmet. For a tail light, it's a Planet Bike Superflash, a very bright flashing LED with a great price.

Until I get the skinnier tires mounted, I'm using some SKS clip-on fenders. They give the bike an aggressive motocross look, but these will be replaced soon with some SKS full coverage fenders.

Mount Moosilauke

I headed north last weekend to finally hike Mt. Moosilauke in true winter. Although both of my previous trips up Moosilauke were snowy, they were in October and November. It was a perfect day for a winter hike - crystal clear with temperatures in the upper twenties.

The trail started out with soft snow but quickly turned slick as higher elevations were reached. Soon the trail was as icy as a bobsled run, probably due to the unseasonably warm weather and freezing rain in the preceding days. Had we remembered crampons (stupid, stupid, stupid), we would have been all set. As it was, we tried our best to get enough traction. Eventually, after being passed by many better-prepared hikers, it was time to don the snowshoes, which helped a lot with traction.

The ice and snow covered summit was beautiful as the wind whipped the clouds across the top. The rime ice was just starting to accumulate again after the warm weather.

When we headed back down and reached the really icy sections, we confirmed what we had already feared - snowshoe crampons don't work very well while descending icy trails. Foolish as I'm sure we looked, we were forced to walk backwards down long sections of the trail.

The last mile was spent walking through snow, which bore a strong resemblance to mashed potatoes. Finally, the snowshoes were put to good use.

It was a great day all around.

What Can I Say?

After years of hearing about and reading other blogs, I've fallen into line in the realm of online conformity. I've started my own blog. Here I will dispense words describing my interests and activities - words, which will be read by hardly anyone. Regardless, I will continue undaunted filling up my little corner of cyberspace.