The No Name Tour: Get Me Out of Here

The last few days have been a scramble to get important stuff done before I leave for the tour. Today involved trips to the post office and putting together all the stuff for the tour. This took way too long. I had hoped to get to the Book, Jacket, and Journal Show in DC that my friend Katie Lee told me about but I ran out of time. Check it out if you are in town over the next ten days.

After about 90 minutes of work, The Mule is ready for a bike tour. Me not so much. But the time has come.

Mule at home

You will note that this bike weighs a ton. Some of the load is consumable. Maps. Soap. Chain cleaner. Lube. A book (Devil in the White City). I switched from a Kryptonite U-lock to a much lighter Ottolock to save weight. But I added two water bladders and a water filter so the bike weighs about as much as it did at the start of last year’s tour.

The bike feels much heavier though. I think I need to work on weight distribution. Everything in the so-called water proof panniers is in a plastic bag. That’s because the panniers have proven not to be water proof. Live and learn.

The engine is a bit heavier than last year. I attribute this to beer consumption. This year I consumed; last year I did not. After a few hundred miles and some temperance, I should be complaining about my pants being too loose.

Last year my body was in decent shape except for a sore left shoulder and arm. After a cortisone shot, that problem seems to be mostly gone. My left knee is very wonky though. I am seriously worried about it. The hills of Missouri should be a tough test.

Weather looks nasty. Missouri and Kansas seem to be having nonstop rain and thunderstorms. Let’s hope tornados are not in the mix.

I have the tour route roughed out. The starting point is still up in the air. Presumably I’ll start on Thursday from my in-laws house near North Judson, Indiana. If so, I’ll ride 60 miles to Kankakee, Illinois. On Day 2 I will connect with Bicycle Route 66 about 20 miles away. There is some discussion of driving me to Chicago where Route 66 begins. My first day will then likely be a confusing 65-mile ride to Joliet, Illinois. (If this is anything like riding out of Miami, I will be cussing for 6 or 7 hours.)

We shall see.

Oh, I don’t yet have a name for this tour, so I’m calling it the No Name Tour.

Friday Coffee Club – Getting Our Groove Back

For a long time, I’ve missed Friday Coffee Club. It’s a gathering mostly of DC bike commuters every Friday morning before work. In it’s early days around 7 or 8 years ago, it was populated by an incredible array of interesting people: old, young, male, female, (and in between), lawyers, economists, librarians, students, IT professionals, bloggers, reporters, visiting bike tourists, folks from other countries, and on and on. The conversation always had surprises and I rarely left for work without a good laugh or learning something new.

Then Swings, the 17th and G Street NW location near the White House, closed for renovations and we were sent across town to temporary digs where the food was better but the spark was missing.

When Swings re-opened earlier this year the old spark was still gone. Recently Swings placed tables outside (under a protected building pass-through) and the life returned to the party. Today, even without founding members Ed (in Finland), Mary (in Iowa), Brian (new dad), and Lisa (in Hyattsville), the old spark came alive.

Rudi was back to his old self after leading the mourning after the passing of our friend Dave. Susana (a first timer) told us how her husband didn’t want to go to Macchu Pichu because he gets headaches at altitude. Then Lawyer Mike chimed in about how his wife and he wandered into a labor dispute in Lima and escaped being shot with water cannons only to be tear gassed later in the day. (Best honeymoon story ever!)

The weather was perfect. I had a gentle warm breeze at my back for the 15 miles from my home to Swings. I stopped to take a selfie of me with a line of porta potties behind me. I was re-creating a recent selfie of my friend Jessica standing in front of a line of Moai (large stone heads) on Easter Island.

Rapa Pooey

I am thankful that Rudi has his mojo back. It’s been a brutal couple of weeks and we are grateful for how he took us on his shoulders as we mourned.

I am grateful to meet (or perhaps re-meet) Matt. And to be introduced to Amanda. And super thankful that Susana came. She’s one of the nicest people on the planet. And she told great stories. One of these days I will get her on a bike.

Group selfie with Susana — Clockwise from left: Lawyer Mike, me. Big Ed, Susana

Oink – Preliminary Bike Tour Packing List

I will be using four panniers and a handlebar bag. I may swap two big panniers for my two little ones in front so I can carry more water. But for now here’s how the packing list looks:

Camping

Two-person tent with rainfly and ground cloth
Sleep sack (light weight sleeping bag)
Cocoon (silk sleeping bag liner)
Full length sleeping pad
Travel pillow
Knife and spork

Water

Two two-liter water bladders
Water filter

Clothing

Three pairs of mountain bike shorts.
Three techincal t-shirts
3 pairs of socks
1 pair bike gloves
Sun sleeves for my arms
Cotton t-shirt for off the bike
Shorts and belt for off bike
One pair technical undies for off bike
Bathing suit
Teva sandals
Floppy hat for riding in Utah and Nevada
Buff (for combating desert sun)
Headsweat
Gloves
Rain pants
Rain jacket

Electronics

iPhone charger cable
Camera
Headlight (with mount for helmet)
Chargers for all three

Medical

Aspirin (blod clots)
Compression sleeves (blood clots)
Antihistamines (allergies)
Ibuprofen with and without sedative (old body parts)
Eye drops (glaucoma) – 2 small vials
Arnuity (asthma) – two inhaler discs
Albuterol (asthma) – one inhaler

Toiletries

Sunscreen
Toothpaste (lots of little travel tubes to be tossed as I go)
Toothbrush
Razor (Fusion – one blade will last the whole trip)
Shaving cream
TP
Dr. Bronners (for washing me and my clothes)
Wash cloth
Towel
Spare prescription glasses

Handlebar bag

Chapstick
Spanner for Brooks saddle
Sunglasses
Wallet
iPhone
Backup power source (small with USB port)
Ottolock (small lock in place of u-lock – much lighter)

Tools

Multitool
Chain tool
Piece of coat hanger (to hold chain during repairs)
Master chain links (2)
Cables (1 for brakes, 1 for shifters)
Fiber fix emergency spokes (2)
Tire levers
Patch kit
2 spare tubes
Folding spare tire
$1 bill as a tire boot
Wax lube (for chain)
Oil lube (for everything else)
Degreaser
Rag
Duct tape
Zip ties
Road Morph pump
Swiss Army knife

By far the heaviest single item is the two person tent. I can’t camp in a one-person tent. It feels like I am in a coffin.

In any case, this is quite a load. Roughly the same as last summer, adding the water items and ditching the u-lock

If anyone has any ideas about cutting weight, please post in the comments.

Ten Days to Liftoff

Over the weekend my oldest brother told me that he has the document that I need for my Irish citizenship application. Dang. I could have sworn I had it. Anyway, he’s putting it in the mail so I can ship off my packet of documents and photographs to Dublin. Yay.

Yesterday it rained all day. Having not slept a wink on Friday night I took full advantage of the rain. I slept in. Then I took an afternoon nap. Then I watched a baseball game on TV. In other words, I took the day completely off. Stressing out over the application had worn me out mentally and physically.

With batteries recharged and perfect weather, I rode The Mule 61 miles today. It was a nonstop ride from my home in Mount Vernon, Virginia to DC to Potomac Village, Maryland, to Bethesda Row, Maryland and back. I managed to find a few decent hills including the climb near Great Falls Park on MacArthur Boulevard. This climb very much resembles the long climbs I did in the Cascades (except for the fact that it is less than ten percent as long).

I rode at least two miles per hour faster than usual without meaning to. My left knee and my back were barking at me over the last five miles but I made it the whole way stopping only to tie my shoes and obey stop signs and red lights.

I was pretty tired so I made myself a Dagwood and inhaled that bad boy. Then I went out and mowed the lawn.

Ninety minutes later I was toast. The effort was similar to what I’ll be doing day after day on my tour. Of course, I didn’t carry a touring load on my bike but tacking on the lawn job was a good way to balance that out.

In ten days I should be rolling west from my in-laws house in Indiana.

Time to make a packing list.

Rolling Therapy for Prapanca

I slept terribly last night. I was all stressed out about the missing document I need for my citizenship application. My mind just ran riot thinking about the missing document. All night long. Pure prapanca.

IknowIhavethatdocumentsomewherebutifIdon’tIllhavetogetmygrandfather’sofficialdeathcertificateandtakeitandabunchofotherofficialdocumentsanddrive400milestoaskacourtforanordertoallowthestatetogivemethedocumentbutwhatifIrelandcancelsmyapplicationinthemeantimeandIhavetostartoverandpayanother$323bucksmylifesuckswhycan’tIfallasleeprollovermaybethatwillhelpnoitdoesn’tdon’tlookattheclockit’s2am…

Somehow through this tornado of thought and self-induced stress, I managed two two-hour spurts of fitful sleep. Needless to say, I was a wreck all morning. I conducted another search for the document. No luck.

Just reading the morning paper and trying to do the puzzles was exhausting. Coffee didn’t help either. It just made me more anxious. I tried meditating but all it did was cause my mind to go back into its spin cycle.

Around 2 p.m., I decided to do an easy bike ride on The Mule. Maybe 20 miles. After 1 mile I felt better. Two miles, even more so. By ten miles I was a happy camper. I went out of my way to ride up some hills. No problem. Let’s ride over there and back over there and isn’t it a lovely day and I love riding in shorts and a t-shirt and what the heck was I so stressed about anyway?

My body was happy. My mind was calm. Life is good.

Tomorrow I’ll look for the document again. Maybe I just misfiled it.

Bureaucratic Madness

I am applying for Irish citizenship by birthright. My paternal grandmother was born in County Mayo in the late 19th century. She came to the US and married my grandfather, an American, in 1907, 112 years ago.

For my citizenship application, I need her birth, marriage, and death certificates, my father’s birth, marriage, and death certificates, and my birth and marriage certificates. This took months and a couple hundred dollars. I filled out the application and paid $323 by credit card on line. Today Lawyer Mike agreed to witness by application and some other documents at Friday Coffee Club. (Come for the caffeine, leave with the documents.)

When I got home I photocopied everything and then realized I can’t find my grandmother’s official marriage certificate. I know I had it. I remember because the embossed seal had faded. But maybe I confused it with another document.

I feel like I should send my application in anyway, and wait for Ireland to tell me the marriage certificate is missing.

To get the marriage certificate, I have to petition one of the New York State Supreme Courts. (They have more than one. They don’t mess around up there.) Even though my grandfather died in 1948 and my grandmother died in 1965. You’d think there was a statue of limitations for documentation. You’d be wrong.

I have to demonstrate my need. So that means proving lineage. I do not know, and no one up yonder can tell me, if I need to provide official copies on these documents.

Which will be in Dublin if I submit my application.

I have asked my siblings to search for the document. I leave on my tour in two weeks and don’t want this thread dangling.

Slainte

April in my rear view mirror

After a week of mourning and activism, I need to move ahead. Dealing with the sudden death of a friend is always very hard. Seeing the incredible outpouring of love for Dave in the local community (and beyond) has been amazing.

I pulled up a bunch of old Flickr pictures to share with friends on Facebook. I had said in my last blog post that I’d known Dave for five years. The pictures say that it’s more like ten. I had forgotten how many rides we did together.

He may be gone but like Tom Joad he’ll still be here.

“A fellow ain’t got a soul of his own, just little piece of a big soul, the one big soul that belongs to everybody.”

But unlike Tom Joad, Dave had an enormous soul. And his passing leaves a our one big soul broken.

When I heard the news, I didn’t even want to look at a bike, much less ride it thousands of miles. That feeling faded with dozens of tearful hugs from friends over the last week.

My Errandonnee activity came to a screeching halt however. It just didn’t seem right to continue. Most of my rides in the last week were to and from DC to visit the site of the crash twice, go to a happy hour with mutual friends, and attend a rally at the District Building (city hall) to call for the city to up its game to keep vulnerable road users safe.

Near the end of the month my Cross Check’s odometer hit 12,000 miles. I put it away and switched to The Mule for the rest of the month.

Ironically, on my first ride to the crash site, I found out that the brakes on The Mule were nearly useless. When I got home I tried to put new brake pads on the bike but the hardware on the 28-year old brake mechanism was so rusted that I couldn’t get one of the old pads free of the caliper. Fed up, I took the bike to my local bike shop where they swapped out the old cantilever brakes for new mini v-brakes. Afterwards I could skid my back wheel. A vast improvement.

The planning for my tour continues to march ahead. The expected start date is now May 16. Launch will occur from the small town of North Judson, Indiana instead of Chicago. This is because Mrs. Rootchopper will be driving me there in her new car. Her 15-year-old car was burning oil like a bad diner cook. Speaking of diners, North Judson has an awesome one that I will hit up before departure. During Lent, they make killer paczkis, which Dave, who lived in Chicago and its environs before moving to DC, would have appreciated.

I have built a decent mileage base, riding 868 miles in April. So far this year I have clocked 2.609 miles, mostly in 30-mile days. That, and riding 1,300 miles from Indiana to Colorado, should put my legs, not to mention engine weight, in good stead for the climbing during the middle of the trip.

My long ride of the month was a 64-mile jaunt to Bethesda and Potomac, Maryland. A few days ago I did a hilly 39 miler. I also rode to six or seven baseball games at Nationals Park. The rides were better than most of the games. Blame the bullpen.

Last night on the way home from the last game of April, I spooked a yearling in the dark along the Mount Vernon Trail. It bounded along the trail ahead of me for a few hundred yards, its white tail dancing in the white circle of my headlight.

On to May….

A Friend Is Gone

This morning a reckless driver killed a bicyclist on Florida Avenue, NE in Washington DC. The early news reports said the victim was “an elderly gentleman.” I don’t know any elderly people in that area of town. It couldn’t have been anyone I knew.

And yet it was.

Dave Salovesh was 54 years old. He was a wonderful man full of life and love. You could tell every time you saw him with his partner Jean that he loved her to the moon and back. I laughed so many times as he described the travails of being the parent of Kid O, his now teen-aged daughter. Being a parent is hard but, God, did he love her, too.

I’ve known Dave for over five years. Every interaction was a joy.

He was a passionate advocate for bicycling in DC. In 2015 he helped organize a protest on Pennsylvania Avenue, to get the city to install small barriers to keep cars from making u-turns across the cycle track in the middle of the road. We made a temporary barrier with people and pool noodles strung together. The protest succeeded and we had a ton of fun in the process.

At the end of the event Dave gathered up the pool noodles and we all went out for a beer down the street.

19566313641_cc7b5aa8c7_z

I am gutted.

God, I’m going to miss him. What a great guy.

My deepest condolences to Jean and O.

Love you Dave.

Another milestone

My Surly Cross Check fixed my back and improved my leg strength this spring. I’ve been riding it day in and day out. On a Thursday, my Cross Check reached a milestone.

Now it’s time to get The Mule in shape for a tour.

Errandonnee 2019: Take me out to the happy hour

Another day, another errand. The third Thursday of the month hereabouts means that it’s time for another BikeDC happy hour. This one was held on the Dew Drop Inn in northeast DC.

The festivities began at 5 which gave me all day to ponder happiness. What better way to do that than to go to an afternoon baseball game at Nationals Park with my daughter. Our seats were sweet, on the 300 level between home plate and the Nationals dugout.

View from 317

The game lasted 3 hours and the good guys won, but not without some ninth inning drama. No worries, Dr. Doolittle saved the day. After the game, I headed rode north past the Capitol. (Ho hum. Life in the capital of the free world.) I made my way to the Metropolitan Branch Trail which runs along the railroad corridor heading north from Union Station. Using the MBT allows bicyclists to bypass probably a dozen traffic lights. It’s sweet.

The Dew Drop Inn is at the current northern terminus of the MBT. It’s a bar in an small, old industrial building. Fortunately, it serves food. I had beer and a sandwich during the 90 minutes I was there. For all 90 minutes I sat in the direct sun and fried my forehead. Dumb. The picnic tables on the patio where we sat were covered with tree pollen. (We cleaned them off.)

I rode home with progressively less sunlight and seemingly more and more pollen. At times I had to slow to a crawl in order to get the pollen out of my eyes and throat. Once I cross the Potomac River, I added midges to my misery. For 12 miles. At least the weather was enjoyable.

Errand No. 8

Category: Social Call (2nd use)

Place: Third Thursday Happy Hour at the Dew Drop Inn

Observation: The Metropolitan Branch Trail is like a bicycle expressway in the heart of DC. No red lights. Only a couple of stop signs. Relatively flat.