Bucharest and Bicycling: First Impressions

I am spending a few days in Bucharest for work and I am amazed by it. Even to someone familiar with many Eastern European cities, the capital of Romania stands out. It's not just the culture and the language (Romanian is a Romance language in a predominantly Slavonic region, and it sounds approximately like Italian with a Russian accent), but the very look of the city.

Never before have I seen such a head-spinning mix of old and new, big and small, restored and dilapidating - and yes, I've been to East Berlin and many formerly Soviet areas. Here is a gorgeous pre-War villa with wrap-around wrought iron balconies (notice the bicycle path, too).

And here is the view directly across the street.

Construction and renovation projects are everywhere, and it is clear that the city cares about preserving its unique historical buildings.

More variety.

Unusually shaped gables and towers; intricate art nouveau details.

Imposing facades stand "shoulder to shoulder" with tiny houses more characteristic of the countryside.

Wrought iron latticework is everywhere.

And grapevines.

But what about bicycles? Well, a few of the streets in the center do have bike paths. And I was pleased to see that the bicycle symbol in Bucharest comes with a full chaincase. But I do not see many actual bicycles on the streets, let alone any with a chaincase or other classic features.

The lack of cyclists is rather a mystery, because there are clearly some attempts at infrastructure and bike-friendliness going on - like these adorable bicycle racks at a local park.

And this bikeshare station, which appears to be sponsored by a mobile phone provider.

And this advert for a concert. Yet, hardly any any actual cyclists.

One reason for the lack of cycling could be the traffic patterns and the layout. Many streets in the center are wide, multiple-lane boulevards that go on forever and are gridlocked with cars. They do not look very inviting for cyclists. But I have no idea to what extent this is really the cause.

Another thing I am wondering about here, is the abundance of the telephone(?) wires. There are literally wads of wiring hanging off the poles. My colleagues who are traveling with me are all wondering about that.

Here is another view of the wires. Any ideas?

It is too bad that the cycling situation in Bucharest is so dire, because otherwise I like it here very much. It seems that a great deal of resources are being allocated towards keeping the city clean, improving urban infrastructure and transportation, renovating historical buildings, and supporting the arts. There are several sprawling parks here - all beautiful and meticulously well-kept. I have not used the subway yet, but the buses are shiny and new. Little convinience stores and kiosks sell water and ice cream on every corner. People are friendly and polite - no pushing on the streets, pleasant facial expressions, holding doors for each other. If you don't speak Romanian it should not be a problem, as a surprising number of people speaks very fluent English.

Being in Bucharest makes me wish I knew some locals and could get to know the place better; maybe even figure out the cycling mystery. I hope to have another occasion to come here in future.

Bicycle Quarterly: The Art and Science of Velo-Fetishism

[Edited to add: Bicycle Quarterly became a sponsor of this website in December . This post was written 1 year prior to that time.]



As a holiday gift, I received a subscription to Bicycle Quarterly and a set of back-issues containing articles I had been wanting to read for some time. The Winter issue and the older set arrived a little while ago, and I have been in a BQ-induced trance ever since. To describe this publication is challenging, as it defies easy classification. Part quasi-scholarly journal, part illustrated adventure book, something like this could only have been created by somebody with the mind of the relentlessly tenacious scientist and the spirit of the boy explorer. The result is wild, spectacular, engaging and maddening all at once - which is probably more emotion than any periodical has gotten out of me, ever. For that alone, the Bicycle Quarterly is worth every penny of its $30/year subscription fee.



Bicycle Quarterly focuses on randonneuring and cyclo-touring, and on theclassic and vintage bicycles designed for these forms of cycling. Its content includes elaborate bicycle reviews, detailed historical articles, technical articles on frame building and ride quality, travel stories, book and product reviews, and much more in the same vein. But to leave the description at that would be to understate the unique nature of this magazine. First, there are the hand-drawn black and white illustrations. And then, there is the inimitable narrative voice of Jan Heine - both the publisher of Bicycle Quarterly and the author of most of the articles. Dr. Heine writes like a research scientist who, without the pressure of having to publish in peer-reviewed academic journals, has given free reign to his poetic side. With scientific phraseology interwoven with florid descriptions and subjective assertions, it is like some fantastic tapestry that draws me in with the eccentricity of its patterns.



To be sure, the Bicycle Quarterly contains a wealth of carefully researched information, which I find invaluable to my own learning experience. The author is detail-oriented and analytical, conducting in-depth research and getting to the very heart of the matter in every topic he explores. In particular, I have found the rare historical information, and the many articles examining the geometries of classic bicycles extremely useful.The information provided is not something that can easily, if at all, be found online, and so it is a priceless resource. I will be storing these back issues carefully and using them as reference material in the future.



At the same time, Dr. Heine has a very distinctperspective, which must be kept in mind when reading his assertions, reviews and critiques. He favours a specific kind of (1950s French randonneuring) bicycle design and is convinced of the superiority of this design to a degree that, in my view, makes him deeply biased. He also has a number of theories - such as that on "planing," on the virtues of low-trail geometry, and on the superiority of flexible frames - which he tends to treat as fact, or at least as self-fulfilling prophecies. As a trained researcher myself (psychology and neuroscience), I cannot agree that the tests and reviews printed in Bicycle Quarterly are "scientific" - Yet they are presented that way to readers, and that is my biggest criticism of the magazine. Bicycle Quarterly has much to offer - as long as the author's assertions are not taken as gospel by the eager novice. It is the art and (pseudo-)science of velo-fetishism at its best, and I am addicted.

More About our Bok Tower Gardens Trip

As I said, this was Nathan's first trip to see Bok Tower. It was really overcast and looking like rain, so there wasn't a big crowd there. Which made it a nice day to visit.



As soon as you enter the front of the visitor center, you can see that this is going to be a pretty place.







Clearly this was a personal goal of Mr. Bok, as is shown in the quote over the entrance.



I think he definitely achieved it with this place.



The main attraction is still the tower, with the beautiful carillon music coming from it each day.

a private conversation?....Mont Bell Mirage

"Jer,

The first bit of ouralaska kit is on the way.

Mont Bell Mirage down jacket, 15 oz in a large

fully box baffled...

Nelson was right, nothing like it on the market at that weight and warmth..we save 1/2 # easy in the pack and a good bit of space with comparable warmth to the Mtn H. Nilas and 150 less coin.



Be sure to remind me of all that when we are freezing our nuts off as the sun goes down @18K feet."



MB Mirage Large 14.7 oz/420g on my scale

3.5" loft at the shoulder

900 fill down



http://coldthistle.blogspot.com//03/more-on-mid-weight-down-jackets.html
















I will eventually be doing a full review of the Mont Bell, Mirage and Permafrost. But I wanted to add this picture first. Shown are the Mirage, Permafrost and the Mtn H. Nilas. The MB jackets both retail for $350. The Nilas $500. Lots of info that will need to go into the full review but leave the basics at this. The Permafrost has almost and extra inch of loft at the shoulder,the Mirage virtually identical loft at the shoulder by comparison to the Nilas. Permafrost is within 90g of the Nilas with hood and 12g less than the Nilas with out a hood. The Mirage? Yes?..almost a full 1/2 pound less (210g) in weight than the Nilas. Just say'in, looks to me like Ueli went to work at thewrong company ;)



More here:

http://www.outdoorgearlab.com/Down-Jacket-Reviews/MontBell-Mirage-Parka

Hot Hazy Humid

picnic at Mayo Beach...Summer 1940

It's hot. Nothing new here. What's new is the heat index telling us how hot we FEEL. I could live without this. I have been living through sweltering summers all my life in Washington, but it's disconcerting now to know small children and older people should not even be breathing the air. On these hot summer days all eyes turn toward the Eastern Shore.

Way back when, before the Chesapeake Bay Bridges, a trip to the beach was most likely by car or ferry and did not necessarily mean the Atlantic Ocean. Ferries could take you to places like Betterton or St Michael's- once thriving communities. Now you can still find sleepy piers on that side of the bay while the traffic swarms down Route Fifty towards Rehobeth or Ocean City.

My parents used to go to beaches on this side of the bay like Chesapeake Beach, Mayo, and Woodland. There were nets to catch the nettles, but they didn't work very well, and the water was shallow. Cousins Koula and Thelma had a cottage in North Beach, and their friend, Johnny Monaco had a place in South Beach. Johnny would catch soft shells or fish for dinner. Other times they would go just for the day. Sometimes Mom and Dad would sneak into the dances at Beverly Beach where no immigrants were allowed, but Dad was light haired and blue eyed and got away with it.

Unfinished Business: Wegetables I've Never Seen Before (5.10a)

(Photo: Adrian past the early cruxy face climbing on Wegetables (5.10a).)



I've been saving the subject of Wegetables (5.10a) for the end of the year. I could have posted about it some time ago. I tried the climb back on November 19. But on that day it didn't work out quite like I wanted it to and I wasn't really stoked to post about my failure to lead the route. After my botched, abortive effort, I hoped that I'd get back to Wegetables before the season ended and send the thing, making for the perfect little post about a 5.10 redpoint lead.



But it never happened. We were fortunate to have some relatively warm days in December, but it was still cold enough that whenever I made it back to the Gunks I craved the warmth of the sun. The idea of trooping down to the shady nooks of swampy Sleepy Hollow to climb Wegetables in the cold was unappealing to me, so I never got down there again.



And now the year is done. The child has grown, the dream is gone. Wegetables will have to wait.



But even if I can't tack on a happy ending, I can tell you what happened on November 19.



Wegetables has a reputation as a pretty soft 5.10. As Adrian and I approached the route, I thought I recalled reading that there is some face climbing with dicey pro down low, but that this climbing is 5.8-ish. So I wasn't too concerned. I expected the real challenge to come at the well-protected three-tiered set of roofs at the top of the pitch.



But once we arrived, I looked the route over and the face climbing seemed kind of tough. I saw a big reach right off the deck leading to some interesting-looking thin moves past a vertical seam that appeared to provide some truly marginal protection opportunities.



I got racked up and stepped up to make the first move... and I blew the first reach, just missing the jug and stumbling to the ground. In the process I somehow ripped up the middle and ring fingers of my right hand. Each finger now sported its own angry red gash and flap of loose skin.



After collecting myself, I taped up the two shredded fingers to stop the bleeding. As I did so I kept looking up at that thin seam, wondering if I could get anything good in there. And I started to wonder if I'd remembered the route backwards. Was the crux climbing actually not up high, but down low? Had I actually read that it was the roofs up top that had the 5.8 climbing? And if the crux climbing is where the bad pro is, did I really want to try this climb?



I started to get really bad vibes about Wegetables. Feeling spooked, I told Adrian I was giving it up. He could lead it, or we could just do something else.



Adrian decided to give it a try.



He got started and I was instantly glad I'd turned over the lead. Well, glad isn't really the word. I was sure I'd been right to give it up, but I was also a little concerned for Adrian. He made the initial reach without a problem, but the next moves were thin and his pro, two tiny nuts in some shallow scars, did not inspire confidence. He stepped up and down a few times, looking for better gear, and eventually placed above the nuts a microcam that neither of us liked. Only two of the four lobes were engaged.



Now I was more worried than before. I told Adrian that since he had this shitty cam above him, putting more rope in the system, he was at risk of a ground fall if he slipped and the cam pulled out.



He went ahead anyway, making the next move and then placing a good cam, allowing us both to breathe a little easier.



(I learned later from my sometime partner Parker that there's a great nut that goes in sideways in the Wegetables low crux. I hope to find this bomber placement when I get back to the route in .)





(Photo: Adrian in the roofs of Wegetables.)



Once Adrian was above the low crux, easy climbing led him to the overhangs. The rest of the way was straightforward, although it looked harder than 5.8 to me. Adrian found numerous placements, then got worn out and had to take a hang in the middle of the strenuous roofs. Then he finished it up, giving me the chance to try Wegetables on toprope.



I found the opening moves difficult, but I worked them out without a fall. I managed the roofs as well, sending the whole pitch on my first try after my initial stumble on the very first move, thereby salvaging a tiny bit of pride.





(Photo: Just past the low crux, posing as a toprope tough guy.)



It is a really good pitch. The low face climbing is unusual for the Gunks. It is beta-intensive and not especially hard once you work out the correct body positions. The climbing up top is completely obvious, by contrast, but much pumpier.



After I finished my first run on toprope we each took one more shot at the pitch. Adrian sent it this time around and I felt like it was significantly easier now that I'd figured out the moves. I was pretty sure I'd laid the proper foundation to come back and fire it off on the lead at some point in the near future.



I just hope I still remember my beta when I finally get back to the route. Wegetables is one of my main goals for early .

Flycatcher

I got this shot of a flycatcher sitting on the same plant stand to catch the cool air as the mockingbirds I told about in the previous post.

Cycling Through the Neighborhood(s)

The small street where I live is positioned between two radically different neighborhoods on the Cambridge/Somerville line in the greater Boston area.

In one direction is an affluent Harvard neighborhood with brick sidewalks, historical mansions, romantic gardens, and overarching trees.

In the other direction is a stretch of concrete lined with multi-family houses with faded vinyl siding, shopping plazas, warehouses, and unfinished construction sites behind chain-link fences.

When we first moved here, it amazed me that two neighborhoods of such different character could border each other so crisply: There is no overlap, it is as if someone drew a line between them. Over time I got used to the divide and just accepted it as a given, but having begun cycling made me hyper-aware of it once again.

Cycling towards Harvard is relatively tranquil, with roads that are in reasonable shape and motorists who seem accustomed to bicycles. I would not go so far as to call it a "Disneyworld version" of a vehicular cycling experience, but close to it.

Cycling in the other direction, the roads are covered with pot-holes, the drivers are more aggressive and impatient, and traffic patterns are chaotic. Recently, Somerville has painted "sharrows" all over the major roads and this has helped a bit with the driver aggression. A bit.

When I first began cycling, I dealt with this by staying away from Somerville and only going to destinations that could be accessed via the calmer Cambridge route. But in the long run, this was not a reasonable solution. So I started to get myself used to the area by cycling with the Co-Habitant. Gradually, the anxiety of it began to subside. And then, one morning I got on my bike and rode on my own to a hardware store that is in the very thicket of the area that used to intimidate me. It suddenly felt fine.

I know that there are many, many people who cycle through Somerville constantly and probably find my comments here ridiculous / pathetic, but so be it - cycling there used to honestly give me anxiety attacks. No more though. In some ways it is up to the person to make the area where they live accessible to themselves.

The Shadow Knows

Can you tell what the shadow knows? I've darkened it to make it more visible. Scroll down for the answer.






I thought I'd look up the latin name and mention it here.

Then I found out that there are 83 different kinds in Alabama.

So I said, "Forget that."

Because they all look more or less exactly alike.

OK well not really, but almost.

And I am not that dedicated.

Not enough to plow through a lengthy key.

Especially when the subject in question slipped away after only a couple of blurry, non-diagnostic photos.









Ready?





Arr!

Check out that right claw.

I got really tickled reading the common names of some of the Crayfish of Alabama.

First of all, nobody here really calls them that. It's crawdads to you, bub. Even crawfish suggests that you're just putting on airs.

There are a few normal, descriptive names:
Bigclaw Crayfish
Boxclaw Crayfish
Twospot Crayfish

But several of them sound awfully sinister:
Phantom Cave Crayfish
Devil Crawfish
Rusty Grave Digger (Ooh!)

And some are considerably more evocative than you'd expect, for crawdads:
Lavender Burrowing Crayfish (Really? Lavender?)
Cajun Dwarf Crayfish (Napoleon complex)
Depression Crayfish (The Sad Sack of Crayfish)
Lagniappe Crayfish (With free gift!)
Ambiguous Crayfish (Maybe I'm a crayfish, maybe not)
Ditch Fencing Crayfish (Tiny épées at 20 watery paces!)

Ceci N'est Pas un Rando Bike

Last summer I test rode and reviewed a Rawland Nordavinden, which I liked very much. At the time I was waiting for a similar frame (a prototype project) to be finished and it was unclear when that would happen. Could be soon, could be in another year, as these things go. In the meantime I kept borrowing bikes to do dirt road rides, which didn't feel right. Soafter giving it some thought, I bought the Nordavinden frame for personal use and built it up as an interim bike, with components destined for my own frame. Long story short, but for now the Rawland remains.I got used to it, I like it and can't bring myself to dismantle it.






The frameset is the same one described earlier, so I won't go into detail again. But quick summary: It is steel, with thin wall standard diameter tubing and low trail geometry, made to fit 650Bx42mm tires and to accommodate sidepull or centerpull brakes. The way I set up this bike is considerably different from the demo model I tried last summer, so I'd like to share my impressions of this version.






Rawland owners have their own newsgroup called rCOG, which I browse with interest. One common theme I've noticed there is that they like to keep the weight of their builds down. I did this to some extent as well, but didn't take it as far as one could. For instance, I went for lightweight wheels, but didn't fret as much over the other components. Still, the bike - before fenders, front rack or handlebar bag, but including saddle, pedals, bottle cages and bar tape - weighed a respectable 22lb, according to Harris Cyclery's scale. Once the final accessories were added, the weight rose to 25lb. That is not bad for a bike of its type, though it's possible to do better (for a price).






The wheels were built around Pacenti PL23 rims, with a Schmidt SON dynohub in the front and a White Industries rear hub, with a Campagnolo road cassette. The tires are the 650Bx42mm Grand Bois Hetres. Some have pointed out that this bike looks like it has fatter tires than the one I tried last summer, but that's only because these are cream and the others were black. White tires tend to look larger; it's an optical illusion.






The drivetrain is a hybrid of older Campagnolo Chorus (not sure what year, but it was when Chorus was still a 10-speed group), and a White Industries VBC road double. The goal here was to achieve super low gearing without weighing down the rear wheel with a mountain cassette, as well as allowing me to use my favourite shifters. As far as smoothness of operation and reliability, the setup works okay, but I would not go so far as to recommend it (or any other hybrid drivetrain I've tried to date) to others. More on this in a later post; it could be a bit of a rant.






But as far as gearing, the setup is heavenly. I have 42/28t rings on the crankset, and a 12-29t cassette in the rear. On pavement, I mostly use the big ring, and it provides a decent range. On dirt, I switch to small and it also provides a decent range. Having a sub 1:1 gear is wonderful. I tend to pedal at a high cadence, so climbing hills on an overgeared bike is a sure way to dampen my enjoyment of a ride. With the low gearing here, my legs always feel good on climbs; I feel like I could go anywhere.






The brakes are Paul Racers, and I reviewed them here. Honjo fluted fenders.






When riding on dirt and gravel, I prefer the Selle Anatomica saddle for the extra bit of give it provides. I've reviewed SA saddles before (here and here), but might need to post an update.






In the front I have a Nitto Mark's rack and a modified VO Campagne handlebar bag, which I use as a camera bag. The headlight is a Schmidt Edelux, on a DIY bracket. I have not installed a dynamo tail light yet, but when I do it will be the Spanniga Pixeo.






Cane Creek headset, Velo Orange stem, Grand Bois Maes handlebars, Cinelli cork tape. In retrospect, I think the white tape was an aesthetic mistake on this bike, but I'll keep it while it lasts.






Not clearly pictured here are my Crankbrothers Candy pedals, and King bottle cages (made by these guys), with Lezyne mini-pump attached. When I ride this bike, I typically keep tools in the saddle wedge and camera stuff in the handlebar bag. If I were doing a multi-day trip, I would substitute a large saddlebag for the wedge. I do not plan to install a rear rack.






[image by Pamela Blalock]




The role of this bicycle seems to confuse a lot of people. I've been repeatedly asked why I did not ridelast weekend's Permanent on it, since it's the prototypical "rando bike." But it's not a rando bike, at least not to me. I prefer to do paved rides - be they short or long - on my lightweight skinny-tire roadbike. On pavement, my roadbike is faster and feels better; I get less tired and find it easier to keep up with others. This may not be the case for everyone, but it is for me. However on dirt and gravel, this dynamic changes and a fat tire bike feels both more comfortable and more efficient. I also find the Rawland's distinct handling to be helpful on twisty unpaved rides, which in turn allows me to ride more confidently, relax and enjoy myself more.




So the Rawland (and any similar bike it might eventually be replaced with) is for unpaved riding. It is also a "camera bike," for long rides where I go exploring and photo-scouting. These two use case scenarios sometimes, though not always, overlap.The frame feels springy, but not noodly.A full handlebar bag does not seem to impact handling in any noticeable way, but the bike also handles just fine without it, as well as with weight on the rear only. In general (another rant-inducing topic best saved for another post), I am coming to the conclusion that handlebar bag setups are unnecessarily bulky and troublesome. I would not go this route, if it weren't for my desire to carry heavy cameras on the front of the bike. That said, I enjoy my setup, despite the trouble it took to install everything to my satisfaction and the extra weight.




I've now had the Rawland since September, though I did not ride it for a period from January till late March due to snow. My favourite things about it are the handling, and that it allows me to carry my big cameras in the front. It is a fine bike and a fun bike - though I'll be remiss not to note that others who try it don't always like it; the phrase "hinged in the middle" is used. It seems the low trail thing is really a matter of taste (and/or of getting used to).






With unpaved rides becoming more popular than ever, lots of cyclists are looking for appropriate bikes and the Rawland is a great option. In addition to the Nordavinden, there is now also the Stag model, which is made forcantilever or v-brakes, and for 650B wheels in all sizes (whereas only the smaller Nordavinden comes in 650B). And for an entirely different take on bikes for unpaved riding, watch for an upcoming review of the Honey Cyclocross bike.