Tag Archives: Trips

Late Season Miles in France Days 3&4

Here’s a breakdown of the second half of our quick trip to France in November, 2011. Check out the first half here.

Interlude (Post Day 2 Ride in Grasse)

The Rollout on Day 3

With all that great cycling at our (hotel) doorstep in Nice/Grasse, it was difficult to justify hopping in our Peugeot Expert to drive two hours in search of more miles.  Could the riding get any better than what we’ve experienced in the first two days?  The answer turned out to be yes.

Bike Prep at Maison Yves

The Old Port: La Ciotat

The drive ended in the Mediterranean seaside town of La Ciotat, situated between Cannes and Marseilles, and home to the Guivarch family, our hosts for the next few days. Yves, Beatrice, and their children were more welcoming than we could have asked for and certainly did their part to make the trip a special one. When riding in France in November there’s little that melts the sharp edges of a long, 40 degree day in the saddle as well a good massage.  Unfortunately, daily massages were not in the cards, though our gracious host offering comfy couches, a roaring fire, and glasses of Champagne upon our arrival in La Ciotat came pretty damn close.  The cassoulet and red wine that followed topped off our fuel tanks and made it difficult to stay fully awake through the excellent cheese course.

La Ciotat Day 1

The night before, Yves had remarked that “it doesn’t rain in La Ciotat,” which is why it was surprising that we woke to grey skies, 30mph+ winds, and the occasional downpour.  No matter, we only had four days in country and we were getting on the bikes no matter what.  Post Nutella/baguette breakfast, the crew + Yves bundled up and hit the road.  Yves asked whether we wanted to start “along the water” or “into the hills.”  Nursing an injury or two and pretty tired from the day before we opted for the “water” route.  This turned out to be a wise choice as very little is flat in this area of the country and not riding “in the hills” meant that our uphill stints were 1-5k instead of 10k+.  Even though visibility wasn’t 100%, the rolling terrain provided stunning views of the calanques along the coast and the often-terraced vineyards of world renowned red-wine appellation of Bandol that made up the inland scenery of the Castellait.

Climbing Up from the Sea

It turns out that Yves picked an awesome route with scenery that continually changed from historic seaside towns like Sanary-sur-Mer to the beginnings of a pretty decent climb (you’ll note he said “start” along the water).  While this wasn’t a Hors Categorie 12% climb of average gradient, it was reasonably steep and a notable contrast to the gentle rollers of Saint-Cyr and Ollioules.  The landscape alongside the many switchbacks changed almost as quickly as the pitch of the road — from Mediterranean scrub to pine trees, and our uphill efforts were ultimately rewarded at the summit with a stunning, if foggy, view back to the sea.

A fast descent and some good old fashioned hammering in the flats got us back to La Ciotat by 1pm, leaving plenty of time for us to reflect on the morning’s efforts with a 3 hour lunch of freshly-caught grilled fish and the locally famous Brazoucade (Mussels, Shrimp, a ton of Roquefort cheese, aioli, and the occasional veggie… oh yeah and frites) in the Old Port neighborhood of La Ciotat.  After feasting, we went out in search of the now obligatory mid-afternoon (outstanding) French pasty and (horrendous) Tabac coffee.  The first bit of downtime on the trip, a tour of the Guivarch compound, a short hike out to the cliffs that mark the end of the continent, and another excellent host-provided family meal rounded out a noteworthy day.

Moules Le Roi

La Ciotat Day 2

Our Illustrious Host/Tourguide

Yves had saved the best for last as the day’s ride would earn the right to be called the “Queen stage” of the trip.   His incredibly outgoing and friendly nature was balanced by a tendency for understatement, especially when it comes to estimating and communicating gradient (this tendency could also just be an indication of how hard-core he is). On this day, he mentioned that it was “a bit uphill at the start” but I don’t think any of us were prepared for 1,500 feet of climbing in the first two and a half miles of the day.  The good news was that our immediate discomfort was rewarded with some of the most incredible scenery we’ve ever seen on the bike.

View NW Toward Marseilles on Route des Cretes

And so it continued for the rest of the day along the Route de Cretes and beyond: calanques, gear busting climbs, harrowing descents with hairpin switchbacks sans guardrails (signed as high as 30% grade!), quaint seaside towns like Cassis … and we only scratched the surface of what the area has to offer.  Words don’t do it justice, so we’ll end here and let the pictures do the talking.

Ben Overlooking Cassis

Gratuitous Self-Promotion

A hearty thanks again to Yves and Beatrice for making us feel like La Ciotat was our home for 48 hours!  Until next time….

The Road to Cassis on Day 4

The Team, Working Hard

Late Season Miles in France Days 1&2

Just before last month’s Thanksgiving holiday, Ben, Ian, Andrew and I met up in Nice, France to scratch a late season road riding itch. Our goals were simple: exploit the warmth of Southern France in November while maximizing our 96 hours in the area by exploring a variety of terrain in a part of the country where the mountains meet the sea, maintain our base fitness with rides at a brisk yet conversational pace, and eat/drink as well as possible every day.

We are happy to report that we met or exceeded each of our goals, and in rereading the following notes from our four day foray into the Alps Maritime, one thing is clear: we only scratched the surface.

Prologue: Nice is a Mess
It’s shocking just how crowded it is in one of France’s most famed destinations.
In this area of the country, being close to the ocean is a huge priority so every square meter is covered by human construction, regardless of how steep the terrain is. Most impressively, many of the roads and buildings have existed for over 200 years, originating in a time when humans and their vehicles were much smaller. Streets are tiny, parking areas even smaller, and street-clogging traffic exists almost all day long, even in November. It’s tough to imagine this town in August (think Hamptons chic meets the human-on-human Jenga stack of Hong Kong).

Day 1
The planned ride out of Nice was an easy 60k or so spin up Col de Braus followed by a descent into Sospel and a climb back out over the Col de Castillon, down to Menton and a relaxed spin-out along the Mediterranean sea back to Nice through Monaco.

It turns out that, given the logistical challenges of Nice (see prologue), our day would start at 1pm instead of the scheduled 11am departe.  This meant that we would have to cut the planned route relatively short in order to be on our way home before the low autumn sun dipped fully below the peaks to the west — a daily event that begins no later than 4:30pm.

Andrew and Ben Hughes at the base of the Col de Braus

After negotiating the traffic and “rond points” (AKA roundabouts) and determining the difference between the D2204 (true departmental road) and the D2204B (autobon-like parkway) we were on our way to the first official summit of the day, the modest Col de Nice (412 M). While this first climb was a “nice” warm-up (sorry, couldn’t help it) it was the next ascent, the Col de Braus (1002M), that helps you understand why so many pro cyclists train here. The road to the top was pristine and well paved, with plenty of gradient variation, zero traffic, switchbacks galore, and outstanding scenery.

Andrew and Ben up the pace near the top of the Col de Braus

At the apex, we were surprised to find the ashes of Rene Vietto and his wife, as well as a monument to this one-time Maillot Jaune. Frankly, the name didn’t ring a bell with anyone in the group and this was by no means a major or “important” climb, so we were surprised upon our return to find out that he was quite a Tour de France folk hero.

At this point our legs wanted more uphill so we took a detour to try to reach what looked like some sort of abbey situated 500 meters or so higher than the Col de Braus, to the west. However, the pavement — or lack thereof — made the route decidedly sketchy and daylight was fading, so we aborted and descended to the car in search of some top Mediterranean grub (Nice’s Luna Rossa = Excellent).

Day 2
After a late night/early AM bedbug scare (note: do your best to avoid the Hotel Normandie — while conveniently located close to the train station, 1 in every 6 mattresses is infected with some sort of bug — at least in our experience) we took advantage of one of the great luxuries of riding in France, the un-ending supply of morning pastries, and were on our way to Grasse.

The long, steady climb out of Grasse

Compared to the bustle of Nice, the outskirts of the town were nearly deserted. It probably doesn’t hurt that there is one direction to go as you head north from town, up, which was fine by us. It could be said that every ride should start like this: 4-6% average gradient with occasional false flats…for over two hours. On the way up the slope, a quick look over our left shoulders showed the outline of the ocean in the distance. Unfortunately the view was directly into the sun and not suitable for photos, so readers will have to take us at our word that there’s something surreal about riding at 3000 feet and seeing the sea. After summiting the Col du Pilon we descended for a few kms before getting our grimp on again, up to the top of the Col de Valferrie.

Andrew Descends the Col du Pilon, near Grasse, France

By the time we hit the Col de Valferrie it was past 1pm so our search for lunch began in earnest — it’s nearly impossible to find someone that will serve you a proper meal in France after 2pm, especially in rural towns where “les snack bars” and hypermarches (Walmart-like supermarkets) simply don’t exist.

The pickings were slim as this area of the Alps is stuck between the more famous Cols to the North and the seaside resort towns to the Southern. Despite our collective worry that we would encounter typical French lunch service (read 2+ hours), we pulled over at Le St. Louis in Seranon. We definitely lucked out on this day — not only was the pizza outstanding and the service light-speed by French standards (full meal in under an hour!), but Le St, Louis turned out to be pretty much the only thing open within 20-30 hilly kilometers.

With only 2 and a half hours left until darkness, and the temperature headed southward, we opted for a slightly shorter cutoff than planned and were rewarded with some gently rolling terrain followed by a killer descent towards the car with sublime late afternoon views of the low Southern Alps.

Some of the "average" scenery on the way down to Greolieres

A note of caution for anyone wanting to replicate our adventure: When riding in this area, signs are regularly seen for “Verglas Frequent” (Black Ice Forms Often) with a picture of a sliding car. It’s easy to tune-out these placards because they’re everywhere — especially when the weather doesn’t feel particularly icy (say, over 50F). However, it’s a sneaky thing, that verglas, and as the altitude exceeds 1500 meters and the roadway heads to the shade, pay close attention. If the fringes of the road are white, we’ve confirmed that there’s a pretty good chance that one will encounter this oft-advertised verglas, leading to a quick meeting with the pavement and a long slide to the gutter.

Also, this day’s ride proved to be a stinky one, given the Nicoise habit of creating huge outdoor fires to burn their household rubbish, not to mention a perfume factory or two. Speaking of smell, several hours at a time of four un-showered dudes in a Peugeout can have some serious olfactory effects. In this case, the primary result was the affectionate anointment of our silver sled as “the stank box” — it’s definitely a good thing that Hertz doesn’t complete any sort of aromatic testing to evaluate rental vehicle damage upon return.

Keegan’s Adventures: Part Deux

NYC Velo is proud to publish Chapter 2 of Keegan’s recent adventure, read on:

Yesterday, I set off to construct the frame bag that would be an integral piece of gear for this trip. I decided to make it myself for two reasons: (a) I had roughly $10 I could spend, so to purchase one new from the handful of small operations that would even sell me something like this would have set me back $150 or more and so was definitely out of the question (b) The second reason had little to do with anything other than my wanting to prove to myself yet again that, when given the right amount of thought, the proper tools and some elbow grease, I’m pretty much capable of doing whatever I put my mind to. There may have also been a small bit of egotism in there as well. I’m not as immune to such narcissistic pleasures as I would prefer, but I do know that all I had to do for a compliment was to roll in to the bike shop today and lean my bike by the door (as of course, everyone loves my newly refurbished bike as much as I do :p )

Anyway, most of the morning was spent scheming and brainstorming. How many zippers did I want? Should I make the dividers vertical or horizontal? How much velcro is too much? Will this material hold up to all the weight I’m planning on loading it with? After much deliberation, decisions were made and templates were finalized. Then, after reading and re-reading the user’s manual of this crazy, new fangled “sewing computer” I was generously given permission to use, there was some sewing, followed by some seam ripping, some cursing, and a bit more cutting and more sewing. When the dust finally settled I emerged victorious, with my slightly misshapen and handmade custom frame bag. And when I strapped it on, it even fit in my frame like it was meant to – I love it when that happens.

After spending $8.00 on the velcro and zipper for my bag and $7.00 for 2 tubes, replacement cables and patches, I was close to being set to go. At a grand total of $15.00 spent on the trip so far, I wasn’t doing too badly either. I was also fortunate enough to arrange for my mother to hand deliver a bunch of my cycling gear from home that would be necessary for the trip (she and I met up last week unexpectedly, after illness brought us both to my grandparent’s house on short notice). Among the items acquired were my helmet, a multi tool, bib shorts and a 3 weeks supply of Clif bars, shots and blocks. Without her, and a seemingly endless pile of tasty organic fuel, this trip would be costing a hell of a lot more. Thanks mom!

With a place to stash my gear taken care of, I can’t help but shift my focus back to my bicycle. Now that I’ve had a chance to take it out on a few long-ish rides, there are still a couple things prodding at the back of my mind that may need to be taken care of before I embark. The gearing, for one, is decidedly more aggressive than I’d prefer for touring. With a 53-40 up front and a 5 speed 12-26 freewheel, things could get pretty miserable in the mountains. The tires, which were pretty nice when they were new, are about a decade old and dry rotted. I thought they might get me through alright, but as I’ve ridden them, a few chunks have fallen off, and more than one sizeable cut has appeared in them. It might be worth the cost if I can find some cheap, or even used tires somewhere in town. I also noticed that my handlebars are ever so slightly bent. I’ll have to keep my eye on them, but I think I’ll keep them for the time being, as the new asymmetric shape favors my left arm, which no longer extends all the way after an unfortunate walking accident.

I have also decided on the first part of my route. I will jump on the scenic Blue Ridge Parkway in Asheville, and follow it all the way to it’s terminus roughly 380 miles northeast in Shenandoah National park. I figure it’ll be a much nicer way to get through NC and VA than riding through the endless maze of big box stores and urban sprawl that comprises most of the US this day and age. Being a national scenic roadway, it will also provide me with a respite from commercial traffic. The Blue Ridge Parkway snakes hundreds of miles along the spine of the Appalachian mountains. It was started as a project by the CCC in the depths of the Great Depression. The idea was to connect the Great Smokies and Shenandoah national parks. Construction on the roadway took more than 50 years, and when it was completed, the National Park Service was left with 469 miles of smooth, two-lane mountain blacktop edged by grassy shoulders. No stop signs, no traffic lights. From the BRP’s terminus, I will continue northeast on Skyline drive, which is really just a winding 105 mile extension of the BRP through Shenandoah national park. Once I descend the ridge and exit the park, I will be left to meander the remaining 350-ish miles north and pick my way around the multitude of major metropolitan centers that litter the eastern seaboard.

I have decided to give myself 3 weeks to complete the trip, so I can take the time to relax and actually see the countryside I am travelling in, instead of just rushing through it.

Velib Cycling In Paris, a How-To

This just in from our field correspondent, Tom (NYC Velo Cycling Team member, marathoner, Francophile/oenophile proprietor of Daily Wine Deals site Winehoarder.com):

I think that we can all agree that one of the best ways to see a city is by bike, and this is especially true in Paris.

While bikes are available for rental from shops, they are often expensive (20-40 euro per day) and difficult to rent (multiple pieces of identity and a French bank check for the value of the bike often required). Not to mention that carrying around a lock and finding a free place to park your bike is a pretty big hassle, at least compared to New York.

The logical option is Velib’, Paris’ bike sharing program.
The premise is simple: pickup a bike from any Velib’ station and return it at any other station. It’s free if your trip lasts 30 minutes or less and additional time is around 1 euro per half an hour.

The challenge, however, is that to rent a bike for a day, you have to have a Carte Bancaire (Credit Card) avec puce (with a RFID chip). I’ve done some pretty thorough research and unless you apply for a card while you’re in Europe, it seems your only option is FairFx though I’m pretty sure that you have to have a bank account in pound sterling, which is also pretty unlikely. However, you can use your American credit card to subscribe to 1 day / 7 day / 1 Month Velib rental online – but first you need to acquire a physical Velib’ card that you can swipe at the Velib’ terminals.

Getting a Velib’ Card
There are three different types of Velib’ cards: Classique, Express, and Passe NaviGo (technically the Passe Navigo isn’t a Velib’ card, but you can activate it to act like one.)

The Classique card is only available by Post — you can also sign up online and the card will show up by mail, but it will take 5 business days, so this option is only for advance planners who can receive mail in France.

Obtaining a Velib’ Express card will require you to go to one of the bureaux de Mairie de Paris (effectively, mayors offices) listed here or the Virgin Mega Store on the Champs Elysee. It’s not clear to me that any of these locations will approve you for a card if you don’t have proof of living in Paris, but it’s definitely worth a try.

Once you have your card (or even beforehand) you can pay for a daily, weekly, or monthly subscription with your US Credit Card online at the Velib site

You’ll need one card for each person who wants to borrow a bike — you can only have one bike “out” at a time per card.

UPDATE: It seems that you can buy 1 and 7 day passes online with any CC.  However, we have not verified whether you will need to present your card at a kiosk to activate your ticket.  If that’s the case, you’ll be SOL unless your CC has a chip.  In all likelihood you will receive a 10 digit code to use with your secret PIN everytime you rent a bike, which while less than convenient, may be preferable to tracking down a Velib’ Express card.

(Note: ‘around’ July 2011 they will be rolling out a way to buy 1 and 7 day passes via smartphone. Stay tuned…)

Getting a Passe Navigo
Assuming you strike out getting a true Velib’ card, or even if you don’t, my preferred method of getting on a Velib’ bike is to get a Passe Navigo (the Paris Version of a MetroCard). This gives you the advantage of being able to subscribe to weekly or monthly unlimited subway in addition to the bike. Here’s a list of places that you can obtain your Passe Navigo. And the best part, is that the Passe Navigo itself is free!

Note, you have to furnish some sort of proof of living in Paris. I’ve found that a formal, handwritten letter from someone who lives here in France is often sufficient, though no guarantees. You *may* be able to obtain a passe Navigo “découverte” from the same locations, with a 5 Euro fee — note, with the passe découverte, because your personal information is not stored, in case your card is lost or stolen, they will not replace it.

Connecting your Passe Navigo with a Velib’ account
This is the easiest step of the process. Simply go to the Velib’ site and sign up. Note: The Velib’ site is one of the best organized sites I’ve found in France — with a well written English section — and you can even call customer support and ask to speak to someone in English if you really run into trouble!

Activating your new combined Passe Navigo/Velib’ card
Once you’ve connected your Passe Navigo to a Velib account, you need to formally activate the account at a Velib’ station. For that, you’ll need your numero d’abonnement (contract #), the activation code sent to you via email (it’s on the .pdf) and your 4 digit secret code that you set when signing up. The instructions are fairly simple to follow.

After this first activation, you’re on your way…
From now on, all you have to do is tap your card on the velib terminal next to the bike you want, wait for the green light and grab your ride!

I’d also recommend topping up your Navigo/Velib’ card with a bit of credit so that your rentals can exceed 30 or 45 mins (depending on which plan you signed up for). The kind folks at Velib’ will spot you the cash for your first foray outside of the time limit. But once your account is ‘debiteur’, you’ll have to top it up before renting another bike – which is nearly impossible to do from the streets of Paris (I’ve had trouble with the https:// pages before)

Other helpful tips:

• You can download a smartphone app to see where there are Velib’ stations as well as confirm bike or ‘parking spot’ availability. Check out the Android Market or the Apple store.
• If you don’t have a smartphone, and you roll up to a velib station that is either full or empty, you can find the # of bikes / spots (velos / bornes) at the closest locations. If you have a bike and the spot is full, you can also use the terminal extend your reservation for 15 minutes while you head to the next station.
• Be warned: just because a bike is available doesn’t mean it is working / has non-punctured tires.  It seems that Parisiens are in the habit of turning seats backwards on non-working bikes as a sort of signal to the world — or at least allegedly no working bikes.  Check carefully.

Now where to Cycle?
Paris is actually quite a bike friendly city. There are a number of bike lines that are reasonably well signed, especially through some, but not all, complicated intersections / large roundabouts. Also note that bus lanes are *generally* reserved for cyclists as well. That said, you have to pay attention as there are four types of signage, which can often change quite quickly.

See the bottom of this article for full details

Or for the visually inclined, these images should help out:

Bus lane ok for cyclists

Bus lane (only) … not ok for cyclists

Bus lane really not ok for cyclists, created by the Mayor’s ofice (editor’s note: wouldn’t one type of sign be enough?)

Sort of Bus lane that’s ok for buses, taxis, and bikes (velos) but not cars! (interdit = forbidden, sauf = except)

So what are you waiting for? Get out there and ride!

Keegan’s Adventures

Prior to the return to NYC Velo of shop wrench/prodigal son Keegan, he did a bit o’travelling around the US of A. His recollection of the journey follows:

So, I find myself on this day in rural Western North Carolina. How I got here is a story for another day, but in short, I have been hitchhiking and backpacking around the southeastern US for the last few months, and like many fellow travelers, hobos, freeloaders and bums, I ended up landing in Asheville. It was very welcoming, even though my clothes were dirty and I may have smelled a little bit. It really is a nice little city. It appears to have an actual community of people supporting it, and not only that, it appears to be alive and thriving. You can see examples of this all over town. Art and music is everywhere. There is not a chain store to be seen in all of downtown (barring a single urban outfitters, which, from what I have been told, made quite a ruckus among the locals when it was allowed to move in). The people actually go outside. You can see them playing music on the sidewalk, walking in the park and doing yoga. You can find food grown within the city limits in the grocery store.

Anyway, I was wandering around downtown one day when I stumbled upon, or, I should say, overheard some hipsters discussing, and then spent the afternoon searching for, the local bike co-op. The Asheville Recyclery certainly isn’t relying on walk in traffic for their business as they are in the very back of the basement of the French Broad Food co-op and they have no sign to speak of. After I managed to find the place, I strolled in and got straight to work. 4-5 hours later, I emerged from the shop triumphant, wheeling my very own shiny new(read: 1970s era and covered in dirt and cobwebs) touring bicycle.

The original intent was to get my hands on a bicycle to use as a means of cheap, quick transportation around town while I was visiting, but as anyone who shares my love of cycling will know, once I actually took my new toy out for a spin, it didn’t take long to evolve into much more. I was getting that familiar itch and it wasn’t long before I was daydreaming about the next place I would go with my new wheels. This, combined with my boycott of air travel and a growing hatred for buses and trains led me to put two and two together. Instead of taking the bus, I would ride my bike back to New York city in a few weeks. I am planning on parking it there for the summer anyway, so, why not ride there? It’ll be the perfect segway back into the cycling community, as I am going to be picking up the wrench again at NYC Velo when I get back to there, and hell, I’m not doing much of anything right now anyway. And so a bike trip was born.

But wait, there’s still one problem, I’m broke. With less than $100 to my name, there would be no decking myself out with the latest and lightest touring gear. I’ll be able to afford food and some basic repair necessities, but not much else. This is not an undertaking I would recommend to someone who is new to cycling. Bicycle touring can be demanding even for a new bike. Riding long miles day after day in all types of weather and terrain puts a lot of strain on your equipment. Factor in the 15-20 extra pounds of gear I’m bringing and the fact that this bike is 35+ years old, and the likelihood for problems increases. It could be risky…if something breaks on the bike, I could end up stranded far from anywhere, left to my own devices to figure a way to the closest bike shop. It’s a good thing I’ve got plenty of devices. Being a larger rider and having very reckless tendencies on and off road, I have had my fair share of mechanical malfunctions far from home. I’ve used leaves and mud in place of a tire boot when my tire was gashed open by a surprisingly sharp rock. I’ve employed a stick and the bark of a nearby sapling to lash a broken frame back into something I could ride home. When a derailleur went missing once, I even performed a trailside singlespeed conversion in order to make it back to the car.

F*ck it, I’m going anyway I’ve never been the type to fret over things before they happen, and I’ve got applicable skills, right? A decade of bicycle repair? Check. A year or more of hitching around the US and Europe on almost no $? Yes. Having done my fair share of dumpster diving and other “creative” means of acquiring sustenance? Sure, couldn’t hurt. Combine that with my sub 10 pound camping setup and all I have to do is round up some fabric and borrow a friend’s sewing machine and I’ll have a custom frame bag to put it everything in. Oh, and I should probably get in shape…

Then I start thinking to myself, Why not make it MORE of a challenge. You know, for fun. Why not try and do the entire trip on $20-$30, including the cost of the bike and anything else I need to acquire for the 800 mile trip. That would REALLY give me an opportunity to put my DIY skills to use. Anyone care to make a wager?

Chris Harris' visit to Ellis Bikes

It seems as though we have a documentarian in our midst.

Our very own Chris Harris just flew out to Waterford, Wisconsin for a visit with David Wages of Ellis Bikes. As it turns out, Chris’s 3rd (and maybe 4th) Ellis bike is in production. We’re going to guess that it’s a pretty beautiful bike, as it will be on display in the Ellis booth at NAHBS this month in Austin, TX.

For those of you who won’t be making it to Texas, we will surely be conducting a full photo shoot when the bike arrives back in NYC proper. While visiting Ellis, Chris logged some footage and put this video together. Enjoy!

Be still my murmuring heart: A visit to IF

I got the flu about ten days ago, which meant that I got to both amass an arsenal of over-the-counter cough suppressants and other flu medication, and have the honor of being possibly the only person in America losing, rather than gaining, weight on Thanksgiving. And while both some weight and the fever have since been kept at bay, I’ve had a dry, hacking cough that’s lingered. The kind that will wake you up at night like an insatiable significant other, persistent and somewhat predictable, resulting in groggy workdays. The kind that results in somewhat sore abs and a tight back from those nighttime acrobatics. Except, you know, without satisfying happy endings that are implicit in anything involving insatiable significant others.

All of which led me to run to a walk-in clinic where a doctor listened to my heart every which way and then informed me that I just may have a heart murmur.

“Have you experienced any shortness of breath or difficulty breathing during exercise?” The doctor asked.

Images of attempting to climb River Road without “shortness of breath or difficulty breathing” came to mind. The inability to suck enough air into my lungs as I got pulled, dragged, then dropped up and down 9W presented itself.

“Uh, no, not really,” I answered.

Because images of a frame also emerged as I envisioned how I must look, riding up River Road. It was small and cute and welded together by a friend. I had visited the workshop to watch it being put together and even met the guy who was going to do my braze-ons [that sounds so dirty, I know]. And there was no fricking way some goddamn heart murmur was going to keep me off this almost-complete beauty.

Because, like I mentioned before, it’s an IF. The day before I got so pathetically sick that I was living off Tom Yum soup, I had ridden up to Somerville, MA to the IF workshop, with a quick stop by Clear Flour Bread to pick up some treats [their morning buns are pretty phenom]. Bundled up in every bike gear layer I own, it was a quick trip north to a warm workshop where my already-tacked frame sat, being TIG-welded into existence. I got to watch as Tyler worked his magic, explaining the process of using a giant electrical circuit to weld, and the use of air without oxygen in it.

Then I got the grand tour. I got to see the collection of tubes, the jig where tubes become frames, and the chain stay cutting machine [it was really cool]. There was the paint section where the newest green Ti Featherweight sat, waiting for its stripes of black matte paint, as well as an assorted collection of frames waiting for their respective powdercoats. I even got to see the big machine that provides extra pure air to the paint department, as well as IF’s sand and glass blasters.

Along the way, I saw and learned about how braze-ons are brazed on, leaving a glass-like residue, and how Corvids are assembled and the super power glue that holds them together. The IF carbon lugs for the Corvids are made specifically to measure, and not bent or stretched to fit like steel lugs. Even in its raw form, the carbon fiber frame was awesomely impressive. I think my heart murmured when I got to touch it; it didn’t hurt that it felt like air when I lifted it up, either.

There’s actually so much cool stuff and people at the IF workshop that it’s hard to actually delve in and describe everything in one visit [especially when your own custom frame is sitting in the welding department, nearing completion]. I left feeling more excited than when I arrived, and even in the midst of a feverish flu a few days later, I did a mental little dance when Tyler sent me even more pictures.

Yeah, that’s right. Pictures of my brazed and welded IF Crown Jewel. [Potential] Heart murmurs be damned. Ain’t nothin’ gonna keep me off that bike.

A Visit to Mr. Weigle's Workshop

We’ve been talking about this day for quite a while – over a year in fact.
It stuck in the back of our minds, a project that we knew would be a
labor of love.

Together, Justin, Mike, and I hatched a little idea about producing a
series of photo essays on framebuilder workshops.  We understood that we
were not reinventing the wheel: our friends at Rouleur, Embrocation, as
well as some of the more prolific bloggers in the industry have all
recently run with a version of the idea.  But we knew we also had the
goods to pull it off. Justin’s a great photographer, Mike can put pen to
paper when necessary, and most importantly, I have a car that seats 3 with
bikes – all of the components we needed for our own unique take on the
workshop profile.

Our subject in mind was none other than one of the all-time great American
frame-builders – J. Peter Weigle. We had gotten to know Peter recently,
and while we’ve been familiar with his bikes (and rustproofing) for
decades, it’s been the last couple of years where we’ve been able to truly
put into context what Peter contributes to the bike world.

After spending some time with Peter and his wife in connection with the
Museum of Arts and Design’s ‘Bespoke’ handbuilt bicycle exhibit this
summer, he invited us to stop by his workshop in Lyme, CT for a tour and a
ride.  Our schedules finally coincided last Tuesday, so Justin, Mike and I
hopped in the NYC Velo Subaru with a trio of steel bikes on the roof,
grabbed some coffee at Abraço, and headed out to our neighbor to the east.

We were greeted warmly by Peter upon our arrival at his workshop 120 miles
later.  We spent hours talking about rando bikes, vintage parts, handmade
tools, builders, flickr pages, NAHBS, and AC Cobra rally car racing.
Visiting Peter’s workshop for a day, one quickly realizes that you need a
month to document the parts, tools and bike ephemera that occupy every
inch of the 1000 sq. foot space.  At a certain point, Peter put his foot
down and got us out on a two-wheeled tour of the dirt roads in and around
the eastern CT coastline.  The day’s weather afforded a ride that took
advantage of the best that New England has to offer: grade A Vitamin G
roads – buff and fast.  Stark, leafless trees surrounding babbling brooks
and waterfalls sheepishly displaying a fraction of their springtime power.
Cottages and farmhouses, true to their Yankee locale, with nary a
subdivision in sight.  In other words – perfect.

Our planned four hour tour was cut back to an all-too-modest 2 hours,
thanks to the early winter sun’s westward advance.  But before we headed
back west to NY, Peter took us to Ashlawn Farm Coffee for an espresso
boost home and some talk about his days at Callaway Motorsports, tuning
Corvettes.  Peter’s randonneur masterpieces sure can move, and now we know
why.

Untill next time, thanks Peter!

We’re spending the winter organizing the photos of our trip, and we
promise the profile will be worth the wait.  Watch this space for more
info and updates.

-Andrew

A Shop Owner in France, Finale

We return once again to find our hero, Andrew, continuing his journey through the french alps…

*note- due to the length of the write-up, you will have to click on the link below to read the whole piece!

Day 3:
On Day 3, we awoke in Les Hieres to 40 degrees, pouring rain and sub-100 meter visibility.  Our gregarious host, Kurt, was unworried, cooking a killer pancake breakfast and planning the day’s itinerary after consulting the French weather gods (aka MeteoCiel).  We threw our bikes on his Thule racks and our grupetto sped off a start about 1.5 hours northwest of Les Hieres, on the opposite side of Grenoble.
The region, which surrounds the Parc Naturel Regional du Vercors is, aptly known as ‘the Vercors’.  Our ride started in the town of Pont-en-Royans, which seem very proud of its aquatic natural resources with a musee de l’eau prominently advertised as a main attraction.

Pont-en-Royans is situated spectacularly at the base of a mass of limestone cliffs that mark the edge of an expansive plateau, where a river exits to the broad valley below.  The ride began with a relatively mellow climb up to the plateau, albeit one that would grind on for 45 minutes or so, and included a claustrophobia-inducing 1700m tunnel.

While the roads in the High Alps are a testament to French engineering, those in the Vercors pay homage to brute force. There are a few tunnels in Alps, but here, most of the roads head directly through the rock faces — likely because there is simply no way around them.  It’s clear that the forefathers of this region perfected their dynamiting and stone cutting skills as their independent spirit led them to do things their own way.  It’s not surprising, then, that this area was a crucial part of the French Resistance in WWII — in fact the Free Republic of Vercors was the first territory to declare its independence from German occupation in 1944.

The climb leveled off onto the plateau, revealing views unlike anything else we experienced on the trip. Photos just don’t do the plateau justice; it is ringed by cliffs and crags, the rocky earth jutting out around it.  Agriculture is the main way of life around here and activities like fishing and cross-country skiing are prominently promoted.  As seems to be the trend in this part of France (and possibly the country over), great cycle routes are peppered with picturesque hamlets, each with its own charms.  We punctuated the ride with an espresso stop at an empty hotel café, and snacked on a few Lion bars for good measure.

Further along our exploration of the plateau, we encountered some unexpected road closures that redirected us a bit and cut a few kilometers off our intended route.  The detours led us down a road that followed the river as it cut down a canyon – literally – on its way back through Pont-en-Royans.

The ride, at about 3 hours in length, was the shortest of the trip (not counting our jaunt up the Alpe d’Huez on the first evening), however, its balance of climbing difficulty, pace, coffee, vistas, and adrenaline pumping descents made it stand out as a highlight.

Total Distance: 56k
Total Ascent: 1050 m
Route: http://beta.mapmyride.com/routes/detail/23234874/

Day 4:

Rain, cold, and poor visibility continued through the night and into our fourth day.  MeteoCiel was not optimistic about a single ray sunshine in the Alps until day 5, so we drove 120k north of Les Hieres to Saint-Jean-d’Arvey in the region of the Savoie.   Thanks to lingering jetlag, a few too many cocktails the night before and our penchant for lazy mornings, we found ourselves yet again with some time constraints – nightfall was only 6 hours away – we didn’t have any time to waste.

Also, it’s worth pointing out that if there’s one thing that we learned on our trip (besides that Larry Page and Sergey Brin don’t know s**t about distances in france) it’s that the Alpine trifecta of the Vercors, Chartreuse, and Alps proper are NEVER flat — no junk miles here kids — it’s either up or down.

We started with a quick descent to a river before an immediate climb up an unnamed Col.  (thanks Google Maps, though maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on them.  Perhaps the monks in the Chartreuse were the ones providing the map data, drunk on the Green Nectar for which they are internationally famous).  We were expecting a speedy, rolling ride north to Lac d’Annecy, but the Savoie region’s alpine terrain disagreed and 40 minutes later we were finally descending again.

By now, we had knowledge of the French retail schedule (i.e opening and closing hours are inconsistent and arbitrary, especially during the “strike month” of September) so we made an early stop for food while something was still open.

The local Carrefour provided some tasty pre-made sandwiches and enough stinky fromage de chevre to temporarily satiate us, while Tom downed an entire Chocolat Yop!, something he would pay for on the rest of the ride.  Collectively, thought the lunch was enough to power us up another 900m’s of climbing before the route led us down to what felt like sea level and around the touristy but beautiful Lac d’Annecy.  Once in Annecy proper, and about 3½ hours into the ride, we would make a hard left to the base of the day’s big challenge: Le Semnoz.

The climb up the Semnoz was on our radar as the highlight and most challenging part of the day. However, the length and pitch of this monster took us by surprise.  Though signed as 18k, the Col topped out closer to 22k from its base at the lake Annecy, and afforded some spectacular, if chilly, views of the valley and lake below, as well as the evening sun reflecting off of the cliff on the other side of the lake.

We bundled up and headed down off the east side of the mountain for a very fast descent to the valley floor below.  We knew we still had a good quantity of kilometers ahead of us, though the exact number and profile seemed like they were a bit off (thanks Google!).  It was best we didn’t know our exact fate, as darkness found us slogging up the last climb of the day, which seemed 2-3 times longer than anticipated (notice a trend?).  Tom commented that the final 600m of hurt was especially intense after a full day in the saddle.  But, the great thing about climbing mountains is the pleasure of going back down them.

Tonight there was an added element of fun: it was now pitch dark.  Screaming down a foreign mountain pass cloaked in darkness with only a single red Knog light between us added some excitement to our journey, one we hoped wouldn’t end with one of us plastered on the bonnet of an oncoming Renault.  Tired, cold, and hungry, we limped back to the car, only to discover that our host was whipping up another tasty meal for our return to Les Hieres.  Kurt was beyond a good sport about us arriving at 10pm, having bitten off a bit more than we thought we realized on another fine day of riding.

Total Distance: 134 k
Total Ascent: 2700(+) meters
Route: http://beta.mapmyride.com/routes/detail/23190732/

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To the Alps: Part 1

A few weeks ago Andrew flew over to France to experience riding in the alps for a few days.  Below is a recount of his experience:

It’s not often that a New York City shop owner gets to travel to the continent, to follow in the tire tracks of the greats, in the country of two-wheeled champions.  I am lucky enough to have some good friends who extended an invitation to ride in the French Alps for 5 days this past September.  A frequent-flyer-mile plane ticket and some couch surfing brought the expenses in line, so the decision to take some time away from the shop was an easier one.  The account that follows in the next 2 blog posts, while longer than what our intrepid readers are used to digesting, is my best pass (with an assist from NYC Velo team member and travel companion Tom Stephenson) at communicating what was a most fantastic cycling trip.

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