Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad

As readers of this post well know, I am sick of winter. So I jumped at the chance to go to coastal North Carolina for a three-day biking event with my long-time biking buddy Charmaine.

I had planned to ride The Mule on the ride but on the way to work on Wednesday, The Mule’s left crank arm fell off. I’m not a mechanical genius but even I know this is not a good thing, so I folded Little Nellie and plopped her into the trunk of my car. Charmaine’s bike rode solo on a Saris bones bike rack.

The nearly 6 hour drive seemed interminable. We, of course, were stuck for about 30 minutes in construction-related tie-ups on I-95 south of Occoquan. This construction will add more lanes to the highway. Just beyond the end of the construction, wooded areas are being cleared for more sprawl proving without a doubt that when it comes to land use, the Commonwealth of Virginia has its head up its posterior.

We were destined for the tiny (population 600) town of Oriental NC on the banks of the Neuse River. Occassionally, Oriental is in the Neuse River. Eleven years ago this area of NC became inundated after a hurricane. Somebody came up with the idea of using bicycle tourism to give the are a shot in the arm, and thus was born Cycle North Carolina’s Coastal Ride.

After checking in, we pulled into a parking space on a lawn next to a town street and unpacked. We were soon set up right along the rock wall on the river facing east. Life is good.

We took short spin around town and ended up at a local restaurant. It wasn’t fine dining (country fried steak isn’t exactly haute cuisine) but it sufficed. The diet coke I was served tasted nasty. I was later to learn that this was becasue the local water was pretty harsh. We rode back to camp and hit our sleeping bags soon thereafter letting sound of the river splashing against the rocks (along with a couple of NyQuil) lul me to sleep.

I awoke at sunrise and was happy I did. It was pretty pretty. We went back to the restaurant for breakfast and the place was packed. The wait staff was overwhelmed. We had a long wait. Charmaine had a ham and cheese sandwich that was supposed to be an omelet. She was lucky because the western omelet that I did have was cold. Oh, well. At least the coffee was weak.

Soon we were headed south on our 51-mile bike ride. The weather was perfect. I rode in a t-shirt and arm warmers. We rode over a bridge just outside of town and, with the exception of a slight dip in the road to cross a creek about five miles later, our climbing for the day was done. Somebody said that the route had 400 feet of climbing, but he must have ridden up a tree or something because the terrain rivaled northern Indiana for flatness. (Note to self: consider coming back with a faired recumbent!)

We rode straight stetches of flat road through stands of pine trees alternating with farmers’ fields in various stages of spring readiness. The full range of economic circumstances were in view. Some houses would have looked at home in the DC suburbs, many were mobile homes up on blocks, some were dilapidated shacks.

We took our time riding and hanging out at the well stocked rest stops. The nasty water I put in my water bottle was hard to get down so it was nice to see bottled water at the rest stops.

As we rode back into town we had a brief chat with a couple of riders. They wanted to know if there was “more stuff” in town. We pointed out them that they were standing in the heart of the central business district. You can’t expect stuff in a town without a traffic light. A few minutes later we found The Bean, a coffee shop with ice cream. Coffee and ice cream being two sides of the official Rootchopper food pyramid we could not deny ourselves a treat. The Bean serves pretty decent coffee so my central nervous system was pleased.

We partook of the post-ride shower trucks. As I exited the shower, I was congratulated by a woman for keeping the dressing on my right hand dry. (I had elective surgery on my middle finger on Monday.)

We ate at a different restaurant and my grilled tuna sammich was quite tasty, as were the two bottles of Fat Tire beer. After dinner we hung out at the marina for a bit before heading back to the tents. There were rumors of rain so we made sure our rain flies were staked down properly. This was a good thing. It didn’t rain but the winds howled all night.

Saturday was a bit grayer but warmish. We headed back to The Bean for bagels, brews and bananas (and a chocolate chip cookie) for breakfast. Saturday’s ride went north. About two miles outside of town a truck passed me uncomfortably close. It was pulling a house which I am happy to say missed me by a couple of feet. For the next half mile my mind kept seeing my obituary: “Husband, father of two, was killed by a passing house outside Oriental North Carolina.

We spent several miles looping through some relatively fancy riverside neighborhoods. The roads were flat and straight, perfect for the two velomobiles we saw coming our way.

We rode a little faster than Friday, perhaps realizing subconsciously that 51 miles here was about as challenging as my 30-mile bike commute. A couple of times we jumped onto a passing pack of cyclists to make the rolling even easier.

When we finished for the day, I felt like I could have ridden 20 or 30 more miles with ease. I am glad I didn’t because the winds really started to blow hard. Flags were sticking straight out. There was just one thing to do. Eat.

The main campground had free pork barbeque. I normally don’t like this sort of food but this was pretty darn tasty. After dinner we went back to The Bean and then sought shelter in skem Adirondack chairs next to some slips at the marina. We had a nice chat with some folks and I had the chance to replensh some fluids (Corona and Bass Ale).

Back at the campground I spotted the beer truck with a couple of guys standing next to it. It turns out that the beer was free. Sad face. But that there was one cup of beer left. So I did my civic duty. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Happy face.

After the sun set, a dragon came down the street. The dragon is something normally used for Chinese New Year (the town is called Oriental afterall) and Mardi Gras. It was a spirited end to a long fun day.

That night the wind blew and blew and the temperatures dropped. I barely slept. My left hip and knee were aching and the guy in the next tent over was sawing logs all night.

In the morning we realized that riding in shorts in 50 degree weather with strong winds was not going to be a whole lotta fun, so we had breakfast and packed up for the long ride home.

I’d say my first ride in the state of North Carolina was a success. Nice people. A well organized event,especially since we nearly tripled the size of the town. Good riding. Lots of good bike porn including several tandems (a Calfee with belt drive, a DaVinci, a Burley, and purple Santana), a Soma rando bike that I wanted to steal, several well appointed tadpole trikes, and the two velomobiles. Little Nellie may have been the only Bike Friday. She was given so many compliments that she will be impossible to be around or the next several weeks.

One word of warning: there was an epic amount of tree pollen in the air. If you pan on doing this ride, medicate accordingly.

I’ve only done one other event ride like this (Bike Virginia in 1991). I really should do more. They are quite a lot of fun.

Check put my pix of the ride on Flickr over here.

Little Nellie Has a Blast and Goes Bananas

(I skipped over Thursday’s exciting adventure. Here it is.)

After Wednesday’s evening of advocacy, I was pretty revved up. I didn’t get to sleep until after midnight. Overnight temperatures were dropping and the winds were howling.

It was 27 degrees with a 20+ mile per hour head wind at 7:15 a.m with winds gusting over 40 miles per hour. The Mule’s back tire was low and my floor pump wouldn’t pump so Little Nellie put on a brave face and we headed out into the gale.

After a quarter mile of tailwind I turned into the wind. WHAM!!!

This is gonna be a long ride.

And it was.

Three times I was blasted by a cross wind that pushed Little Nellie sideway. I leaned in like Sheryl Stanberg on Red Bull. I had some protection from buildings and trees until I got north of the airport.

Whoa Nellie. Lets just say I am glad the trail is not closer to the river. After a big turn, I headed into the wind and slowed to 4 miles per hour. And I was giving it everything I had. Wow. It felt like a giant hand was on my chest.

I thought I’d never get to the office. Runners and cyclists coming from the opposite direction gave me encouragement and a laugh.

Don’t. Stop. Now.

This went on for 2 ½ miles. I was pedaling my ass off and getting nowhere.

I arrived late but knackered and chuffed. That was the hardest commute in a long time. And despite all the work, it was a blast. (Pun intended.)

The ride home benefited from a strong tailwind, thank god. It was practically effortless to go 18 miles per hour.

I stopped at the grocery store to buy some bananas and some Vitamin I with a sedative. I have been taking this at bedtime to help me sleep and calm my hip. It’s good stuff.

Errandonnee Summary

Category: Grocery Store

Miles: 15

Observation: I am shocked at how well my back and hip responded to today’s ride. Of course, it could be the case that I am so jacked up on Vitamin I that I can’t feel a thing. Or maybe I am getting better. I’ll know when I quit taking the Vitamin I in a couple of days.

Errandonnee #6: Little Nellie Goes to Work

Between oversleeping and a longish yoga session, I was out the door 30 minutes later than normal. I overslept because I took Vitamin I with a sedative before going to sleep. I hope the I works as good as the zzzz.

The good part about my departure was that it was daylight. The bad part was that The Mule had a flat rear tire. Well, at least it didn’t go flat on me on the road.

My only option was Little Nellie, my Bike Friday. With its little wheels it’s a bit hard on the back. Given my recurring back woes, I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of riding her. Of course, that didn’t stop me. I hopped on Little Nellie and took off for work.It was in the 40s, too warm for the holey sweater but too cool for shorts.

The ride in was uneventful. I saw a different set of people than usual, except for the Hoppy Runner. I normally pass him as he heads south but today I passed him heading north. I was pleased to make it all the way to work without any significant stiffening in my back or hips. Taking 600 mgs of Vitamin I may have had something to do with that.

Throughout the work day I alternated between sitting at my desk and standing. I spent much of the day reading a document about the Internet in 2025. One of the experts cited was Bob “Don’t Call Me Rachel” Cannon. It never ceases to amaze me that so many people I know are experts. Somehow we got put in charge. Yikes. Does this mean I have to grow up?

The ride home was pretty damned awesome. 70 degrees!!!! The Mount Vernon Trail was pretty crowded. Nearly everyone was well behaved. One exception was this man, about 55 to 60 degrees who was walking south just past Gravelly Point park. As I rang my bell to pass him, he stopped turned and yelled at me. He did this last week too. I didn’t respond but I am wondering if this guy may be the same person who pushed a cyclist off his bike a few weeks ago.

I stopped on one of the flyover bridges at National Airport to shed some outerwear. Off came the jacket and the skull cap and the glove liners. It felt so good to feel the wind on my arms.

I must have had a tailwind. I was going 2 to 3 miles per hour faster than usual. I seemed to actually have my mechanics back after so many weeks of fighting with my back and hips. Yoga is making me much more comfortable on the bike, too.

Just south of Dyke Marsh I came upon a man standing next to the trail. He seemed to be buttoning up his dress shirt. He was ratty looking. I don’t often see homeless people this far south. He had gray hair and a messy short beard. It occurred to me that he vaguely resembled the sketch of this Alexandria homicide suspect. Except the suspect looks well groomed. The more I look at the sketch the more I think I’ve seen this person before. The twist in his lip and the eyes remind me of someone. Creepy.

A few hundred yards later, just before the Morningside nest, I came up a large limb across the trail. I dismounted and started to remove it when another cyclist hopped off his bike and grabbed the opposite end. We had it off the trail in a matter of seconds. I later learned from Nancy “Two Sheds” Duley that the disheveled man had been spotted throwing debris onto the trail.

Speaking of the Morningside nest, I spotted a picture on a Flickr page from a local photographer. A bald eagle has returned to the nest. Soon breeding season will begin.

After arriving at home, I started to change to tire on The Mule. I could not find a leak. I pumped the tube up until it looked like an inner tube but it wasn’t leaking. Maybe the valve is bad. I decided to put the tube back in the tire, remount it, and check again in the morning. Since it was so nice out, I did some maintenance work on Little Nellie, too.

Tomorrow is supposed to be another warm day. With thunder storms. March is tempermental.

Errandonnee #6

Category: Work

Miles: 30

Observation: I was pretty pleased that the new fair weather commuters were all well behaved today. No one buzzed me too closely. Except for the two loonies, people were smiling.

Errandonee #5: Car Repair by Bike

There is something not quite right about getting new car tires by bicycle but that’s what I did today. I put Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, in the trunk of my car and drove to the dealer in North Arlington. Normally, buying tires from a car dealer is dumb but I wanted the same tires that came on my car. And, the dealer cost was $1 more than the Firestone place near my house. Unlike my local Firestone place which screwed up an alignment the last time I went there, my dealer’s mechanics seem somewhat competent.

I took a picture of Little Nellie with my car. As you can see, I pulled into the gray 2009 Accord line.

The service clerk asked if I wanted a ride to the Metro and I said, “No thanks. I’ll take my bike.” (Kinda has a nice ring to it, don’t it?)

And I was off. Somehow I managed to nearly get killed twice on the ride to work . My rear brake is not working properly. I rode Quincy Street (named after the TV pathologist) to the Martha Custis Trail. It was a breezy ride to Rosslyn with some interesting swales in the surface of the trail where winter had been unkind. The little wheels on Little Nellie made them rather nauseating.

I got to work but neglected to take a documentation photo so I can’t count this one as a work errand. No worries, I’m riding to work tomorrow.

During the day, my Saturday bookstore errand was disallowed as a library trip but it still counts as a trip to a store other than a grocery store.

An update on my back: I have been dealing with nasty back problems for about a month. Lately they have migrated to my left hip and knee. I did some web surfing and found out that one side effect of back spasms can be hip bursitis. The treatment is ice and ibuprofen, neither of which I have been using. I took some Vitamin I and slapped some ice on my hip last night. This helped until the ibuprofen wore off at 2 a.m. I woke up for some more “I”. Suffice it to say I was groggy when I woke up for my first daylight savings time workday of 2014.

I did another set of yoga exercises after awakening today. I can safely say after two weeks of yoga that I have little chance of playing Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. I looked like a fish on deck trying to do the bow exercise: (1) Lie on the floor face down. (2) Reach back and grab both ankles. (3) Draw ankles forward toward butt. (4) Arch upper body up and back. (5) Hold.

I got to (1). This is Spinal Sap.

After I sort of did the yoga routine, I read the “Thoughts for the Day” page in my yoga book. It was all about how housewives would be less miserable and get all the housework done by incorporating yoga into their daily lives. And they’d be all refreshed and invigorated when their husbands came home.

It’s an old yoga book.

Errandonee #5:

Miles: 6 ½

Category: Store that is not a grocery store

Observation: My dealer washes my car whenever he works on it. Wouldn’t it be cool if bike shops did the same with your bike?

Coffee and Pumpkins and Bikes, Oh My

It was cold. It was Friday. Warming up would require a bike ride and hot coffee. Fortunately, Friday Coffee Club was on the agenda. I rode Big Nellie to Swings and found that the cold had not stopped the fearless bike commuters of DC from attending. They, however, did move the proceedings inside for the first time since late winter. It was good to see Adam (a.k.a. Froggie) back on dry land after spending months at sea in his job as Tweeter First Class aboard the USS iPad. Kate, who had just completed the graveyard shift as an underpaid public servant, was also in attendance. She had ridden Kermit, the bike I would be most likely to steal but for its pink handlebar tape. Welcome back, you two.

Friday’s workday came and went. During the ride home I was going over a checklist of things to do in preparation for Saturday’s Great Pumpkin Ride in Warrenton VA. Thing number one was raise the seat on The Mule. This went really well until I tried to tightened the seat post bolt that would keep the seat where I done raised it to. The bolt wouldn’t tighten. I jumped in the car and drove to Spokes Etc. to get a replacement. It turns out the bicycle industry no longer uses this seat post retention system. Spokes didn’t have a bolt. I drove home and decided to ride Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist instead.

Saturday morning was so cold that I didn’t bother to look at the thermometer. The drive to Warrenton involved a 15 mile detour caused by VDOT’s brilliant decision to close one of the exits on I-66. I lucked out and found a parking space only a couple of blocks from the start.

As I was getting ready to leave the car, the guy in the car next to me says, “Are you Rootchopper?” It turns out he is known online as Consularrider and he works in the building next to me in Rosslyn. Small world. After a brief chat, I took off to pick up my t-shirt and cue sheet. I decided to ride the 43 mile ride instead of the 71 miler. After doing the check in, I headed out for a brief tour of Warrenton. Old Town Warrenton is quaint and small, but I managed to get lost anyway. After about 3 miles or riding I pulled into Red Truck Bakery. I had a coffee and an orange cranberry walnut muffin. The coffee was okay but the muffin was mouthwatering. Readers of the blog may find this familiar since I had the very same thing last year. It is still the best damned muffin in the universe.

After muffinpaloosa, I headed back to the start of the ride where I was hoping to find John Roche, creator of the Hoppy 100 bike rides. I learned from the check-in desk that John was long gone. Bob Cannon and his son Jeremy soon appeared and in short order the three of us were underway. Bob and Jeremy set a very brisk pace. After about five miles I slowed to my normal slog and took in the scenery. Last year the foliage was post peak; this year most of the trees were green. It didn’t much matter because this is the Virginia Piedmont, the kind of countryside you see in coffee table books: split rail fences, rolls of hay drying in the fields, Blue Ridge Mountains in the distance.

I reached the first rest stop. It was Cannon-less. It was also foodless so I topped off my water bottle. Before leaving, I raised my seat a couple of millimeters to get more extension out of my legs. The bolt didn’t break. Yay. Back on the road I was alone with swirling winds and rolling hills. The hills are just the right size to hill hop, zoom down one hill then use the momentum to ride all the way up the next.

The next stop was at the Elk Run Anglican Church. Oh. My. God. Cookies, brownies, hot pretzel sticks, nuts, M&Ms, and more. To wash it down they were serving hot apple cider. I hate cold apple cider, but this sweet, hot drink totally hit the spot. The Cannons were here. So was Consularrider. And John Roche. Chat ensued. I split off to talk to a guy with a faired Gold Rush, a lighter weight aluminum version of Big Nellie. I did my best not to drool on it.

By the time I rejoined the posse, Consularrider (who was doing the 71 mile ride) and the Cannons were gone. John Roche and I headed out as a duo. Before leaving the rest stop, I nearly flipped my bike over backwards when I caught the rear wheel in a roadside drainage ditch. A cop sitting in his nearby car had a good laugh. He said I wasn’t the only one.

John and I gave the ride an honest effort. We had a steady tailwind for what seemed like two or three miles (yay!) then it was in our face again (boo!). John’s better at hills so he would speed ahead on the rises and I would catch up a mile or two later. On one of the downhills, the Gold Rush went by us in a blur. Dang, that bike can fly.

Our next stop came at Poplar Springs, a vineyard up a windy hill from the main road. On the climb up, we caught and passed Gold Rush. Recumbents can’t climb for beans. As the famous cyclists Milton Friedman once said, “There ain’t no such thing as a free downhill.”

This rest stop had tables of food, hot cider, and pumpkin soup. It looked like many of the riders were preparing for an overnight stay. Nom. Nom.

As we were preparing to leave, my grad school roommate Paul and Amy, his significant other, appeared. They were doing the 23 mile ride. Given the food at this rest stop, I think they might have gained a pound for their efforts. They were last seen falling into a food coma near the pumpkin soup.

The Cannons blasted down the road and John and I made rather pathetic chase. We found out that Jeremy, a high school hockey player dressed in street clothes, was chasing down lycra-clad triathletes on their fancy carbon fiber bikes. I’d have loved to have seen the look on their faces when this kid in jeans got on their back wheels.

The Cannons were out of sight in no time. No worries. This stretch of the route had some honest to god foliage. Pedal, pedal. Pretty, pretty.

After passing a couple of women wearing capes, we rolled into the finish. There was more food! And massages. And antique bikes. We hung out in the hopes that the sun would warm us. No dice. We went our separate ways. Back at the car, Consullarrider was preparing to go out for another ride – to get his 100 miles in for the day. I would have joined him but I am sane and there was heat in the car!

On the way home, I visited several bike shops to find a new seat bolt. No luck. The Mule now sits at home looking sad, off in the corner of the shed, its seat pushed all the way down to the top of the frame. No worries. One of the shops is getting some bolts in this week. The Mule will ride again.

For pix of the ride (beware: Food porn ahead) check out my set on Flickr.

How I Found Jesus and Lost a Crown

You could not ask for a nice day to ride a bike. Warm, breezy, sunny and dry is an awesome combination. It’s a little bit of Vermont in DC. It was the perfect day to try out my new prescription sunglasses. I pulled Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, out of mothballs and headed out for parts to be determined.

We headed up the Mount Vernon Trail. Traffic on the trail on nice summer weekend days is usually pretty heavy but it was tolerable today. I decided not to press my luck and left the trail to cross the Potomac River on the Woodrow Wilson Bridge trail. The bridge trail was very crowded but everybody was polite and considerate so I made good time. On the connecting trail in Maryland I passed an interesting tandem bike, a Hase, I think. The stoker sits in front on a recumbent seat. The captain steers from behind the stoker on a conventional bike saddle with conventional handlebars. The riders seemed to be having a blast.

I pedaled up the half mile hill to Oxon Hill Road which is being completely rebuilt to the south. Not wanting to ride through the construction site, I turned north. The intersection at Oxon Hill Farm has been redesigned to deny a left hand turn. I couldn’t figure out how to get to the farm any other way so I turned left anyway. Take that MDOT.

I rode back down the long hill in Oxon Hill Park to Oxon Hill Cove. The trail through this parkland, owned by the National Park Service, is a mess and really needs to be torn up and repaved. (I will refrain from bitching about Congress and how it seems hell bent on turning our public infrastructure into East Germany 1978.)

One mile and a big climb later I was on the streets of Anacostia. As usual, Sunday in Anacostia means church and church goers dressed in Sunday best. I took Martin Luther King Junior Boulevard (is that the longest street name in DC?) down and up and down through the neighborhood. Instead of taking the 11th Street bridge over the Anacostia River to Capitol Hill, I turned instead into Anacostia River Park. I headed north, up river, exploring side roads here and there. A nifty new bridge takes the park trail north toward Benning Road. Coming toward me on the bridge was a chatty pack of women on bikes. Nellie from the Washington Area Bicyclists Association was at the head of the group. I recognized one of the riders as a regular Mount Vernon Trail bike commuter. She has a blinky light that swivels on the top of her helmet and a very serious bike commuting demeanor.

Since none of the women said “What a man!” as I passed on continued onward. I spent a few minutes trying to find the entrance to the Kenilworth Aquatic Gardens but only succeeded in finding the solid waste disposal facility for DC. Fail.

I crossed the Benning Road bridge and took the Anacostia Trail downriver on the west side of the river. Next I meandered through Capitol Hill where I took a break at Eastern Market. After some food and drink, I headed to the Capitol (because it’s there) and then up the Metropolitan Branch Trail. A left put me on the contraflow bike lane on R Street. (Contras make good bike lanes.)

My wanderings took me through a street fair of sorts complete with a farmers market and bike repair, because you need some peaches with your new brake pads. Up U Street where all the people who can’t get to the beach were eating brunch. I turned up 15th Street and headed into Meridian Hill Park. The park is usually filled with people doing acroyoga, slack lining, and hula hooping, and a very entertaining drum circle. Sadly the only activity was a bunch of people having picnics and an ultimate Frisbee game.

Up 15th Street to 16th I rode. Traffic got a bit heavy so I started to zig zag to the east and the north. I managed somehow to ride past the Tacoma Park home of Mike, the world’s most loquacious randonneur. (He and his wife Lisa hosted a rest stop on the 50 States Ride last year.)

I pushed onward into the confusion of downtown Silver Spring. If there’s a silver spring anywhere about it’s probably paved over or built on. I spotted a sign for a bike trail that eventually led me to the Georgetown Branch Trail which meant it was time to head for home. After spending a few minutes enjoying the view and chatting with people on the Rock Creek Trestle, I headed toward Bethesda Row for a bit of iced tea. After refilling my water bottles, I hopped on the crowded Capital Crescent Trail and headed for Georgetown and the Potomac River waterfront. The trail is downhill the entire way and the downhill combined with the tailwind to make this a perfect ride.

The river north of Key Bridge was choked with kayaks and canoes and powerboats and other floating things. DC sure likes its water. All this activity made the going kind of slow on K Street which runs by the packed Georgetown Waterfront Park. I pedaled along and was soon at the beach volleyball courts near the Lincoln Memorial. A couple of Park Police officers cruised at 5 miles per hour on the trail making sure that none of the scantily clad volleyballers were drinking or evil doing. As he drove the driver of the cruiser sucked at a Slurpee. (Um, can we move along guys? Please.)

With the help of my tailwind, I rode down Ohio Drive past several softball games (I saw two batters hit frozen ropes in the process.) As I rode across the Potomac on the 14th Street bridge my tailwind became a cross wind strong enough to lean in to.

The Mount Vernon Trail was as crowded as I suspected but the trail users were generally well behaved (an abnormality on a nice summer day, to be sure). As I cleared Gravelly Point Park I went to take a drink from my water bottle. As I pulled on the valve with my teeth something clicked in my mouth. It was a porcelain veneer crown on one of my front teeth. Bummer. Luckily I didn’t swallow it. Hopefully my dentist can glue it back on. (It was put in about 20 years ago so I’ve got nothing to complain about.)

In Old Town I decided not to deal with Union Street which is usually teeming with touroids on days like today. I rode down Royal Street where, in front of Saint Mary’s Catholic church, a couple was setting up a series of long tables with carvings of various Christian people and scenes. I found Jesus on South Royal Street.

Not wanting to take a couple of mulchy detours on the MVT, I took the Park Terrace Drive hill instead. I rode up the hill in the saddle at 8 miles per hour, twice as fast as on my recumbent.

I pulled into my driveway with 62.9 miles on my odometer, a metric century (100 kilometers).

June: No Century. No Problem.

I finished off June today with a 22 mile ride on Big Nellie, my Tour Easy recumbent. The repaired chain seems to be working fine. I did notice when installing new brake pads yesterday that my front fork has some surface rust on it. I think I’ll replace it when I swap out the chain and drive train.

It was a pretty busy month. My daughter graduated from high school. All eyes are now on late August when she starts a new chapter in our lives when she heads west to Butler University in Indianapolis. I missed several days of riding dealing with graduation and other family events. I still managed to ride 672 miles. 508 ½ of those miles were aboard Big Nellie. The big hoss has become my go-to bike this summer. The Mule, my old Specialized Sequoia touring bike, came in with 125 miles, all while riding to work. Little Nellie, my Bike Friday New World Tourist, got light use with only 38.5 miles.

I rode to work 16 times, 11 on Big Nellie, 4 on The Mule and once on Little Nellie. My longest ride of the month was 64 miles on Big Nellie in Prince Georges County, Maryland.

For the year, I have 3,526 miles with 82 bike commutes.

I haven’t signed up for any fall rides this year. I will probably do the Southern Maryland Century and the 50 States Ride again. Once the kids go to college, I may jump in the car and go for some long rides in the boonies. That’s what they’re there for.

And Don’t Call Me Yertle

I love my Ortlieb panniers. They are simple to use and take a ton of abuse. I loathe my Ortlieb handlebar bag. Like the panniers, it has one compartment and it is waterproof. Unlike the panniers, it is a beast to open and close, even when you are not in motion. If you can’t get to your stuff inside the bag, it’s useless. It’s a bag in serious need of a redesign.

I ordered an Acorn handlebar bag a couple of weeks ago. It’s a pretty interesting design. Unlike the Ortlieb’s red denier nylon (which is admittedly pretty sharp looking), the Acorn bag is made out of heavy canvas. It has four compartments. The front two compartments are covered by a big flap. The main compartment under the flap is intended to stay closed while you ride. It has a zipper that runs the width of the bag. In front of that and still under the flap, is a smaller pocket that looks perfect for snacks. On the back, there are two small compartments, just the right size for a phone and a camera. They open very easily which means I can finally get at my camera.

I had to move my bell and my bike computer around a bit, but I think this Acorn bag is going to work out just fine.

New Bag Front — Acorn Bag on Little Nellie: Front View

New Bag Rear — Acorn Bag on Little Nellie – Rear View

I have two mounts for the Ortlieb bag, one for Little Nellie and one for The Mule. The Mule’s bag mount has a reinforcing cable on it. Once you take off the cable, odds are you won’t get it back on. So I put the Acorn on Little Nellie.

Little Nellie and I went for a ride to tweak the new set up. It was 80-ish degrees and muggy. T-shirt weather. We cruised over to the Mount Vernon Trail. I could hear all kinds of big birds cawing above the tree tops, but I couldn’t see them. I peeked at the Morningside bald eagle nest; there was no eagle action. About a half mile later ,I came upon a big snapping turtle just to the right of the middle of the trail. I stopped to check it out. Soon I had company as we waved other trail users around the beast that was about the size of a Frisbee. I have seen snapping turtles laying eggs on the side of the trail in the past, so we assumed she had just done the same here. (The turtles brace their front arms on the edge of the trail and flail away in the dirt with their legs, digging a hole to deposit the eggs into.) We could see a couple of patches where the dirt on the side of the trail had been freshly disturbed.

: Yertle before the move

Momma turtle was not wearing track shoes this day, so one of the cyclists who stopped gingerly picked up her up and placed her on the side of the trail. She was not amused, but he was quick and gentle. (Do not try this at home. If you don’t know what you are doing, you could lose a finger. These suckers bite.)

Digression No. 1: when our kids were little, we used to take them to the Virginia Living Museum down in Newport News. (If you have kids, I guarantee that they will like this place.) There is a small river that runs along the back of the building. We were walking on the boardwalk along the back and watching a momma duck swimming a hundred feet away with her ducklings all lined up behind her. Suddenly, one duckling disappeared under the water. It popped back up. Then, as if yanked from below, he went back under, fanny first. I do believe he became a turtle snack.

I stood around to see what the turtle would do. She was pretty pissed off at being moved, but ten seconds later she calmed down. Calm turtles not being really exciting, Little Nellie and I left.

The rest of the ride was pleasant and unremarkable. I rode up to Crystal City then back along Army Navy Drive where I lived when I first moved to DC. I had read that some new bike lane-age had been put it at the intersection with Joyce Street. It looked like, um, paint. Some bike geeks get worked up about these things. I ain’t one of them.

Digression No. 2: What I did notice was that the street was riddled with embedded wires so that cars can trip the light and reduce waiting time. One day when I lived up the street, I convinced the future Mrs. Rootchopper to buy a bike. I’d ride to the bike shop and she’d walk and take Metro. I came down the hill aboard my Raleigh Grand Prix on Army Navy Drive toward Joyce Street. The road was wet from a recent rain. I hit my brakes just as I rolled onto one of the embedded wires. To embed the wires a thin cut is made in the asphalt. Later a sealant is applied. Unbeknownst to me, the sealant is like ice when it is wet. I went down really hard and slid into the intersection. People jumped out of their cars to tend to me. My left side was bruised pretty badly from my thigh up to my armpit. I turned around and headed for home. The future Mrs. Rootchopper was walking down the hill. Suffice it to say, I was not exactly the poster boy for the joys of cycling. She eventually bought a bike, but hated cycling. It’s slow. It’s buggy. You have to eat while doing it so you can’t lose weight. Basically, she found it useless. She quilts instead.

I rode back home and made sure to check on Yertle. She was nowhere to be found.

The Not-so-bad Monday

When the weather turns from warm dry spring days to swampy summertime here in DC, we get afternoon thunderstorms. Prior to spending a summer in DC in 1980, I’d never witnessed the wrath of a DC thunderstorm. They are like a special effects movie. Find a good vantage point, sit back and enjoy the show.

Big Nellie’s foam seat is not the best thing to sit on during one of these downpours. Since LIttle Nellie is fresh out of drydock, I decided to ride her in today. Like yesterday’s ride, it was a brisk jaunt, even with the extra weight of a couple of panniers.

Except for a few mallards and Canada geese, wildlife took the day off. Do bald eagles telecommute? Closer to DC I rode into a light mist. Twas pleasant and downright hydratin’.

The Hoppy Runner, Hardware Store Guy, And Bob (Don’t Call Me Rachel) Cannon made guest appearances. I broke Bob out of deep thought; he was probably pondering weighty Internet law issues or, maybe, what doughnut to have when he reached the office. Or, maybe, like me, he goes into a trance-like autopilot when he rides the well worn path to the office.

As I went up the steep top part of the hill to Rosslyn, my new chain and cassette decided to misbehave. The chain wouldn’t sit on the big cog and made a nasty sound. I dismounted and checked it out. Of course, everything looked fine once I had stopped. The episode was especially annoying because Little Nellie’s drive train had worked perfectly for the 45 miles I had ridden since picking her up at Spokes. I guess I’ll stop back in on the way home and have them look things over.

On the ride home I spotted Mark the Dismal Scientist and Eric the Nine Hour Layer. That made it a five-regular day which is probably some kind of record. The ride home was a jaunty one (using the word “jaunt” twice in a blog post is also a record). I tested the naughty gears again a couple of times and they refused to be repaired by the my power of telepathy. I stopped at Spokes and they tweaked the rear derailler. I rode up a hill on Fort Hunt Road to give it a test. There was a bit of skip in one of the gears but everything worked, more or less. I made it home without a hideous crash.

The hoped for show of nature’s climactic fury didn’t happen so I will save the popcorn for tomorrow evening.

Lost and Found

After wasting most of the day expecting rain and getting little, I decided to take Little Nellie out for a test ride. Little Nellie is my Bike Friday folding bike. It was in the shop for some TLC. After I put on a new cassette, the good folks at Spokes Etc. at Belle Haven, my LBS (local bike shop), put on some new chain rings and a new chain and some new cables and housing, and new brake pads. They also put some lube around my bottom bracket.

I expected to go ten miles. Which led to another ten and another. It sure is nice to have a bike that works properly. And the click-click-click sound that happened whenever I pedaled hard was gone (thanks to the bottom bracket lube).

I rode to Fort Hunt Park then down to Mount Vernon. I stopped to check out the massive bald eagle nest on the edge of Fort Hunt but I couldn’t find it. It was completely obscured by leaves. Closer to Mount Vernon, I head two ospreys cavorting in the sky above. I could only see one and he was putting on quite a show.

My ride took me to a loop and a figure eight on the roads beyond the Mount Vernon estate. The streets are calm and well maintained. Sometimes I pick up a stray golf ball along the road at Mount Vernon Country Club. It is only fair that I do so since I lost dozens playing incredibly incompetent golf as a kid.

The weather was warm and a little muggy. This may have helped my disposition. I am truly sick of riding in cold weather. So it was time to get my yayas out.

When I got home I told Mrs. Rootchopper that that was the best bike ride I’d had in months. After my struggles on the ride to and from Baltimore, I was having some doubts about my biking competence. It’s a wonder what some warm air and an asthma-free day will do for your legs.

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