Little Nellie reached yet anothe milestone, 13,000 miles. My Bike Friday has been my main ride all summer and seems to be handling the task well. I can’t say as much for the saddle and the chain, however. The chain started to skip the other day, almost surely because it is stretched. By now, my cassette (the gears in back) is lilely ruined so I’ll keep the chain on until I replace the whole works this winter. The saddle, a Brooks Flyer, has the same problem as the Brooks Flyer on The Mule. Somehow I bend the adjustment bolt in the nose of the saddle and I can’t re-tension the leather. So I’ll send it out to Aaron’s Bike Shop in Seattle for a repair.
In a bit of a freak coincidence my odometer turned on the same day. And today was my 99th bike commute of the year. So everybody sing:
99 bike commutes on the year, 99 bike commutes. You change your bags and clean your chain, 100 bike commutes on the year.
The plan was to ride from North Judson IN to Kankakee IL to tour some Frank Lloyd Wright houses with the misses. She preferred visiting with her friend in Valparaiso IN. So it was off to Valpo 17th state be damned.
At least the weather cooperated. It was beyond perfect. And the terrain was a pool table. In fact I’m pretty sure the roads around here are paved with felt.
If you’ve ever ridden in northern Indiana you know that there are two constants. First you’ll be riding among soybeans and corn and little else. Soy. Corn. Soy. Corn. Tofu and popcorn. The second is the grid. Roads are numbered from the centerline of each county. W 100 is a. north/south road 1 mile to the west of the centerline. It’s easy to navigate as long as you pay a attention to county lines. When you cross the county line the numbers go a bit haywire. 1200 W is followed by 1100 E. It’s like going through a wormhole.
I pedaled along oblivious to the map that Google gave me. I even found a marked bike route which seemed silly since every road is ridable.
A wind picked up from the west but my countless was legit northerly. I hid behind the 6-foot corn and rolled effortlessly. I could ride this pool table forever.
I made it into Valpo and rolled around a traffic circle. No worries. Local drivers gave me plenty of room, probably because they’d never see a Bike Friday before.
The center if Valpo has an impressive man drag with boutiques and interesting restaurants. It seems like a city on a roll.
Speaking of rolls, mine was coming to an end. I stopped at my brother-in-law’s house. Mrs Rootchopper’s friend’s house was about a Mike away. I chatted with my sister-in-law who warned me about the hills Campbell Street. I laughed having just ridden most of it. It was barely a false flat, imperceptibly uphill.
I arrived st the destination well before my wife. She showed up and we spent a couple of hours talking to her friends from high school. All during the conversation toe dogs circled round us. By the time we left my eyes were red and sore and my sinuses were a mess.
With Little Nellie in the boot we made our way back to her parents’ place stopping at a Target to get some antihistamines. By this point my eyes were a complete mess. Fortunately they seem to be responding to the medicines we bought.
It was a fun ride. Maybe I’ll do another one someday – on my way to the coast.
I’m here in Greenfield In preparing yo move my daughter back into college at Butler University. In my day (he says wagging his knarled index finger) we moved on crowded Boston streets on an oppressively hot and muggy Labor Day. The weather here couldn’t be better.
After the move is complete we’ll head to Columbus IN (or maybe Columbia, I’m new around here) to check out some eclectic architecture. Then it’s off to the middle of northern IN to check in with the in laws.
My hope is to ride Little Nellie (currently folded in the trunk of my car) to Kankakee IL to check out some Frank Lloyd Wright houses and add Illinois to my list of biked states.
Irony alert: yesterday I wore my red 50 States ride shirt. Whenever I stopped for a break during the 10 hour drive somebody approached me and asked “You rode your bike in every state!”
Truth be told I’ve only ridden in 14 states. I’m a state slacker. So I gotta up my game.
On the recommendation of Bob “Don’t Call Me Rachel” Cannon, I took my son’s car to Baird Automotive in Clarendon. They are a little pricey but seem to have their act together which is sadly unusual in the world of auto maintenance.
I could have walked to Metro but then why do that when Little Nellie’s around?
Off we went through Clarendon when suddenly the smooth pavement gave way to a milled mess. The milling was deep in spots, tossing LIttle Nellie wee wheels this way and that. Please cars, don’t kill me. The good pavement returned after three or four blocks, just in time for a screaming downhill to my office in Rosslyn. Once past the Clarendon Metro station I caught every green light. I felt like I won a prize. All too soon, I arrived at work, my two mile bike commute was short but invigorating.
The ride home, not so much. Riding back to the mechanic involved grinding back up that monster hill. Fortunately, the ride back had no milled pavement to deal with. Just one long mother of a hill. I crested the hill just shy of Clarendon as rain drops started to fall. Wouldn’t it be nice if I got to the mechanic without getting soaked in a down pour. And it was.
I always think that the people working at shops will take one look at me and my itty bitty bike and bust a gut laughing. I entered the shop and there was a nice Trek road bike on a workstand in the waiting area. Well, gaaawlee.
Did you know peripatetic is a noun? If you look it up, you’ll see a picture of my friend Florencia right next to it in the dictionary. Would I lie to you?
Flor and I have been doing rides together since we met on the 50 States ride in 2007. It doesn’t seem possible that seven years have passed since we met. We were going to do it again this year, but she has a conflict. Boo. Her friend Emilia is riding for the first time and is a little worried that she won’t be able to handle the 50 States course. So Flor thought it would be a good idea to get us together for a little shakedown ride.
Florencia at the Watergate
It was a nice Sunday morning so I decided to bypass the Mount Vernon Trail and ride Fort Hunt Road to the streets of Old Town and Potomac Yards in Alexandria, Crystal City in Arlington, and (according to the sign on the side of the road) the Pentagon reservation. (Apparently the Pentagon was one of the little known tribes of the pre-colonial days.) I met up with Flor at the Jefferson Memorial. Emilia was a no show. Sad face. Flor later told me that the two of them are doing a 120-mile two-day ride in the weeks ahead. I do believe Emilia will drop me after about 10 states.
Flor and I soldiered on. We rode the Halfvasa route from DC to Potomac Village and back. We managed to survive the onslaught of tourists on bikes and idiots looking for parking spaces on K Street in Georgetown. The Capital Crescent Trail had little traffic allowing us to settle into a nice groove. At Fletcher’s Boat House we cut over to Resevoir Road managing to avoid several toddlers who seemed determined to die by under our front wheels.
The ride up reservoir was long and slow. For me. Flor didn’t seem to be working with the same gravitational field. We rendevoused at the top and proceeded side by side out MacArthur Boulevard chatting all the way. The hill near the reservoir made us work a bit but we cruised over the top and enjoyed the breezy downhill on the back side.
Flor Is a Way Better Photographer than I
MacArthur has no shoulders making it hard to ride side by side so we took to the side path and chattered away. Yoga, rolfing, vegetarian food, being a proud big sister, DC condo values, riding motorbikes in Thailand, and Montessori education. She has a lot going on. She also gave me an update on our pal Richard who rode the 50 States with us in 2011. It’s good to hear that he’s still the kind of person who never has a down day.
Along the way, Flor yelled, “DEER!” There, dead ahead. was a young deer grazing in the grass next to the road. As we approached the deer bolted, thankfully away from us, and joined two others in the roadside shadows.
We reached the dreaded hill at the end of MacArthur and slowly, ever so slowly, made our way up. The chatter stopped. The work was honest. We made respectable time. After a brief stop to discuss our route, we headed down Falls Road to Potomac Village.
We chilled in the shade, enjoying iced drinks and continued the conversation. Once we were talked out, we headed back to DC via the Avenel neighborhood of massive houses. “They’re just boxes holding stuff. Once you get enough stuff, it owns you.” Life according to Flor.
We made our way back to MacArthur. Since Flor lives in the city uphill from the river and the memorials, I thought it would make sense to cut through Georgetown instead of heading downhill to the river. And so we did.
Once we crossed Rock Creek Park, Flor took over navigation. She knew the best route to her place. Just before we got there she asked if I wanted to go to Meridian Hill Park and hang out. And so we did.
We sat in the sun and talked with Jeff, a friend of Flor whom I met at a happy hour last winter. We talked and listend to the drum circle drummers until the sun wore us down. Flor and I headed to our respective homes. She got the better of the deal by about 15 miles. Or maybe not. Riding down 16th Street to the White House followed by ten miles along the Potomac River is a mighty fine way to go.
For the last three days, I’ve been dealing with car repairs. I took one car in on Monday to a body shop. I folded my Bike Friday and put it in the trunk. After dropping the car off, I rode to work. On Tuesday I rode to the body shop after work and reversed the process.
Today I drove to North Arlington with my Bike Friday in the trunk of another car. I dropped the car at a dealer for routine maintenance. Then I rode my Bike Friday the 3 1/2 miles to work. I didn’t break a sweat making me wonder why anybody who lives within four miles of work would drive a car or wait for a bus. Just ride a bike!
In the evening I reversed the process. Easy peasy.
So if you have a car and it needs some work done, get it done by bike. Works for me.
My bikes were tired. I was sick. So I took yesterday off. Today was another story, And this is it.
I’ve lived in DC for 30 years, not including spending the summer here in 1980. And I have never hiked in Rock Creek Park. I’ve biked it. I’ve run it. I’ve even run a 10 mile race in it, but I’ve never taken to the wooded trails that run through the park like blood vessels.
Today, I rectified this in a big way. Starting from Pierce Mill I hiked the Western Ridge Trail to the Maryland line and then crossed the park and hike all the way back on the Valley Trail. I just checked a website that sad that the Valley Trail is 5.5 miles. That means I hoofed it over 11 miles. No wonder I’m tired.
Got Mud?
For those of you unfamiliar with Rock Creek, it’s a wooded urban canyon that cleaves the Northwest quadrant of DC. I have stayed on the paved bike trail and roads of the park until today. The trails are mostly hard packed dirt. Hilly sections have timbers (and sometimes stairs) across the trails to make it easier to go up and down the sometimes steep hills. The Western Ridge Trail started out steep and a bit rocky but ended up being smooth for the most part. I was moving along pretty well when I spooked a deer (I hope it was a deer) in the bushes next to the trail.
Up the Western Ridge
As the name implies, the Western Ridge Trail runs along the ridges on the western edge of the park. This means you have to hike up to the ridge. This was a decent work out. Once to the top the trail rolls up and down, ocassionally popping out on to a street here and there. At one point, in a wooded section, I was surprised to see three horses and their riders coming my way.
The Western Ridge Trail comes back down to the canyon floor at the Maryland/DC line. I cross Beach Drive, the road that runs through the park, and hit the Valley Trail. The Valley Trail was hit or miss. Sometimes it was an unpaved road, sometimes a dirt path through lush greenery. Sometimes it went straight up the side of the canyon. (Hey, where’s my stinking valley?). It also had an annoying amount of tree routes to negotiate.
Thankfully, the Valley Trail hung a right just at the end of this bridge
I’m not complaining though. It’s a damned nice way to spend a summer Sunday morning. Even a little rain didn’t spoil my day. That’s mostly because the tree canopy is so dense that the raindrops rarely made it through.
After my 1000-mile June, I backed off a bit in July. I rode to work 18 times. The only times I didn’t ride to work were days I took off or worked from home. My parking space at work must have cobwebs on it.
Other than a half-mile spin on The Mule to check out its new drivetrain, all my riding was on Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, and Big Nellie, my Easy Racers Tour Easy recumbent. I rode Little Nellie for 16 commutes (including one where I rode from work to Nationals Park). Big Nellie picked up the other two rides to work.
My long ride for the month was Big Nellie’s 111 mile ride to Purcelville and back.
Total mileage for the month was 746 miles. About 2/3rds of which was on Little Nellie which pretty much tells me that my back will tolerate big miles on its little tires.
Off the bike I finally started doing some hiking. The Billy Goat A trail is only about 3.5 miles but it proved to be brutally hard on an oppressively hot and humid day. I did the Billy Goat B and C trails, a total of at least six miles. It was a much more enjoyable hike. I really like doing these hikes as a thing unto itself and as a break from all the biking I do. I need to further investigate the trails in the woods of Great Falls as well as the Rock Creek Park trails which I am ashamed to admit I’ve never hiked.
For the year I have racked up 91 commutes, 41 on Little Nellie, 24 on Big Nellie and 27 on The Mule. I’ve ridden 4,544 miles, a little under 650 miles per month.
No this blog is not about firearms or the second amendment. It’s about taking pictures. When it comes to taking interesting pictures I am utterly inept. This is because I gawk instead of click. A ride doesn’t go by when I don’t think after some interesting thing goes by, “That would have made an interesting picture.” Doh.
Take tonight for example. I saw a bear and then a naked supermodel. Okay, not really. But I did see I guy riding an extremely low hand cycle. It was a recumbent that looked like it could roll underneath an SUV.
As I approached Slaters Lane I spotted a police car parked on the trail just before the long boardwalk where the beavers build their dam. Not good. The car was empty. Hmmmm?
Trouble ahead?
Interesting. At the far side of the boardwalk, I saw the cop talking into his lapel mounted radio mic. A cyclist had taken a tumble and was in need of assistance.
Help is here, ma’am.
The handcycle guy came next but I gawked instead of snapped. Luckily I got a second chance of sorts. Nearly every morning I am passed by a bike with big knobby tires pulling a trailer that looks like a hand cart from a golf course. It’s an electric assist bike and it can move! I am pretty sure this type of set up will be commonplace in five years.
Electric assist bike and trailer
Of course no ride home would be complete without a resident of the 400 block of North Union Street obstructing the bike lane with the butt of his parked car. 420 North Union seems to be a repeat offender. I didn’t see a ticket on his windshield.
420 North Union needs some parking ticket love
In an attempt to redeem myself, I decided to go for what any good Bostonian would call a wickid ahtistic pickcha.
I saw this bike in Rosslyn today as I was going to lunch. Whoever is riding this machine has travelling light down to a science. Handlebar bag and seat bag and that’s IT! Note the absence of a water bottle is made up for by the canteen strapped to the front of the handlebar bag. I would venture to guess that I carry more stuff to and from work than this cyclists carries wherever he may be going.
A Few Spokes Shy of a Wheel 