For The Crafty Cyclist

A crocheted seat cover!




Get the pattern here.

One Million Kilometers

photo Winnipeg Free Press

 Lindsay Gault is a Winnipeg Cycling icon. Before he owned Olympia Cycle and Ski he was a highly competitive athlete. After he sold Olympia and became a bike courier, he remained a highly competitive athlete. He almost killed himself in one race but he is still planning to do the same race again.

I used to take my bike to Olympia for repairs before I aquired the tools to do fix it myself, or started hanging out with the Geek, who loves to fix things. Lindsay is a lovely man with a great deal of unobtrusive advice.

He is completing is one millionth kilometer in the Arrowhead 135 bike race. A celebration will  occur on February 2 (when he returns home?) at 1130 at the Forks in Winnipeg. If I am in town, I plan to be part of the throng, but on foot; Eselin will be staying home-she doesn't go out in the salt, and my winter bike has a front-fork recall that has not been repaired.

And for anyone who is planning to visit Winnipeg, Lindsay and his wife Lynne run a Bed-and-Breakfast, Galbriath House, in a beautiful, central part of town. I am sure you will have the skinny on all things Winnipeg should you stay there.

Wow!

And I Missed It!

Winnipeg Free Press - PRINT EDITION

Trade shorts for knickerbockers

By: Carolin Vesely

Steven Stothers and Joan Padgett will take a jaunt back in time for the endearingly old-fashioned Tweed Ride, which co­incides with Ciclovia on Sunday. (DAVID LIPNOWSKI / WINNIPEG FREE PRESS)

Cyclists have long known the importance of wearing proper attire when putting the pedal to the mettle.

"If you have a wheel, gentlemen, you need a Bicycle Suit," reads an advertisement from a popular Winnipeg retailer. "You need it because it is proper to be becomingly and fashionably attired, but chiefly because it will greatly add to your comfort while riding."

The days of $5 Hudson's Bay bicycle suits may be long gone, but a day of very stylish, old-fashioned bicycling is just up ahead.

Don some classic woollen duds and pack your parasols, ladies: Winnipeg's first-ever Tweed Ride takes place Sunday, and that means we're going to pedal like it's 1899.

A tweed ride/run is when hundreds of impeccably dressed ladies and gents wheel across town on vintage and vintage-inspired bicycles because, well, it's jolly good fun.

London reportedly had the world's first tweed ride in January of 2009, when 150 dapper cyclists pedalled from Savile Row to Bethnal Green. San Francisco, Chicago, Washington, Sydney and other major cities have since followed suit.

The chap in charge of Winnipeg's inaugural event is Steven Stothers, 48, a software manager and cycling enthusiast who also likes "history and old things," and who decided it was high time we all went for a slow ride.

"In this fast-paced world of Spandex and Lycra, it just seemed like a kind of goofy and traditional thing to do," says Stothers, who writes a dandy blog on the subject at www. winnipegtweedride.blogspot.com.

The 10-kilometre ride will sally forth from Assiniboine Park Pavilion at 2 p.m. sharp (come early to hear some old-time banjo tunes) and conclude at 6 p.m. with libations at the King's Head Pub.

Tweed riders are encouraged to pack a snack for a scheduled stop at Memorial Park, which will also include a croquet game. Popping into the Fort Garry Hotel for tea is another option.

The Tweed ride coincides with Ciclovia, the city's second annual bike-and-pedestrian festival, but is not officially part of it, Stothers says.

He invites riders to meet at the replica streetcar on Broadway at around 4 p.m. to pose for group and individual photos, which will be included in a Tweed Ride photo gallery to commemorate the outing.

As for what to wear, leave the fleece and stretchy shorts at home and opt for such fashionable (circa early 1900s) attire as newsboy caps, vests, knickers, pantaloons, cardigans and bow ties. Pipes, monocles, mutton-chop sideburns and handlebar moustaches are also a nice touch. Ladies will look sweet upon their bike seats in full-length skirts, high-necked blouses and flapper-style hats, perhaps twirling a parasol.

Vintage clothing stores and second-hand shops are your best resources. Visit Stothers' blog for inspiration. It has links to photo archives that show what free-wheeling SSRqPeggers wore back in the day. (Yes, bike helmets tend to clash with tweed, but safety first. Don't be a rapscallion.)

If you don't have a vintage bike, weave some colourful streamers through your spokes.

"It just has to look like a period piece; it doesn't have to be a period piece, says Stothers.

"But if someone could bring a penny farthing bike, that'd be awesome."

carolin.vesely@freepress.mb.ca

EVENT PREVIEW

Tweed Ride

Starts at Assiniboine Park Pavilion

Sunday, 2 p.m.

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition September 11, 2010 C6

Under a Sunny, Blue Sky

Last summer, I took an up-close look, for the first time, of the Bishop Grandin Greenway when I rode it to explore the Bois-des-Esprit.
The Greenway runs under the hydro lines along Bishop Grandin Boulevard in south Winnipeg and provides a good east/west route separate from cars.
Today I found I was missing the key ingredients for supper and I took the long way around to the grocery store to avoid the Sunday drivers.
A small portion of the trail runs through a treed area,
but for the most part it is prairie.
You can't enjoy the sky and imagine shapes in the clouds if you are riding in traffic.
And as an additional bonus, this ride counts toward Trisha and Dottie's Summer Games.

I have it good!

Pixie BIkes

No better thrill on wheels, say pixie bikers

By: Carol Sanders

17/05/2010 1:00 AM

Kent Anthony rides his pixie bike Sunday afternoon on Garbage Hill. (DAVID LIPNOWSKI / WINNIPEG FREE PRESS)

THEY'RE grown men on tiny bikes.

Not circus clowns, but daredevils who say they're young at heart.

Meet the pixie bike racers, the latest, weirdest and likely the most well-balanced breed of Winnipeg cyclist.

On Sunday, they raced full bore on their tiny homemade wheels down the steep grade of Garbage Hill, vying to be the first to make it between the pylons two feet apart at the foot of the hill.

They'd grab hold of the jersey on the person in front of them to slingshot ahead. The prize for the winner of the "death race"? Survival and the sheer fun of it.

Jean Madore, 42, has been organizing the races for two years, and wants to "take it big -- as much as BMX."

There are anywhere from a dozen to 22 pixie bike racers in Winnipeg, Madore figures. Most are male and many are bicycle mechanics.

The transplanted Quebecer is a proponent of the homemade novelty bike as well as being a mountain biking enthusiast. The tricky little pixie, though, is dearest to him.

"I'm like a kid again," said the Canadian Forces driver and driving instructor.

"I have no kids -- I'm the kid."

The bikes may look childish but require a high level of balance and co-ordination to operate without popping a wheelie or wiping out.

The pixie riders make it look easy.

Paul Dixon, 31, whips around the Garbage Hill course near Polo Park well-protected with a blue cape, shin pads and a full-face downhill helmet that says "Got Jesus?"

His bike is a hybrid of scavenged parts, including a pink L'il Princess handlebar and a boyish black banana seat.

Sometimes the bike mechanic will go for a spin down Broadway during the lunch hour.

"All the people looking grumpy see me coming and it makes them smile," said Dixon, who has a three-year-old daughter.

On top of Garbage Hill Sunday, the pixie bike racers warmed up on their "steeds."

"If you hit a gopher hole, you're gone," said KMO, a 27-year-old bike mechanic who wouldn't give his real name.

He said there are no real mountains or big hills in these parts, so to make the hills feel bigger, they make their bikes smaller.

The sport isn't for everyone, he said.

"It's for someone who doesn't take themselves too seriously."

Madore said they're planning more races later this summer with the dates and times posted on his Facebook wall.

carol.sanders@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition May 17, 2010 A5"

Small but Noisy

N3 turned three yesterday (tho' if you ask him, he will insist he is five) so we found this little blue horn to go with his little blue bike.
I have been told he grew so much over the summer that he is using the full size wheels now, so maybe he is really five.

A Bicycle Named Gladys

The last few days have given us temperatures of-35C with a -45 windchill (-31/-49F). Since there is no pressing reason for me to go outside, I have been bundled up inside with the books I received for Christmas.

I am currently enjoying The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie by Alan Bradley. I cheer for the protagonist, 11-year-old detective Flavia de Luce, as only a former 11-year-old detective (and not her mother) can.

Flavia rides her late mother’s three-speed BSA Keep Fit bicycle, L’Hirondelle, (the swallow) which she found “languishing for years in a toolshed”. She rescues her from “rusty oblivion” but her tires were flat and “her gears bone dry and crying out for oil”. She restores L’Hirondelle, and renames her Gladys.

Gladys carries Flavia on her investigations and allows her the freedom of movement and imagination we all relished at that age. “...I let Gladys have her head, swooping down the slopes past the rushing hedges, imaging all the while I was the pilot of one of the Spitfires which, just five years ago, had skimmed these very hedgerows like swallows as they came in to land at Leathcote.”

I wasn’t surprised to find an online ‘Flavia de Luce Fan Club’ as I’ve only read a few chapters, but I can’t wait to find out what she does next.

My First Winter Ride

Last night I rode a bicycle in the winter for the first time. We went up the street to visit friends and while in the summer the distance is a pleasant walk, that would not be the case at this time of year. It is also much too close to drive. The bicycle was the obvious choice.
We left the house around 730 pm so there was very little traffic, a bonus for a maiden voyage.
Winnipeg has had very little snow this year -so far. We have snow all around us, but the streets here are still fairly clear. It was cold when we did have snow so it stayed as powder and did not melt into ice.
I couldn't find my windpants so I put leggings under my jeans, wore a breathable winter jacket, my big winter boots and a pair of fleece mitts inside my shearling-lined leather mitts. The helmet cover kept my head mostly warm, tho' the pesky leak around temples would have been problematic on a longer ride. I was comfortably warm and well padded for a fall (which was my biggest concern). I had headlights and a flashing tail light but the batteries were getting weak in the headlight so they died in the cold. The tail light shorted out. I borrowed a flashing leg band from the Geek and rode behind her, as her lights were working well. Those pesky light problems were solved today.
I'm happy to say the the streets were not the least bit slippery and I didn't come close to falling. There is no chance that I will let my guard down though.
The winter bike is much lighter than Eselin, and therefore feels much different to ride. Eselin is so long and very sturdy that you don't feel any bumps. This bike responds very quickly and I could probably catch myself more easily should the wheels slip.
As I was pedalling along, I kept likening this bike to a rabbit, so I think it will have to have a name that implies bunny-like properties. Undoubtedly something will come to mind.
Now that I have tried this, I'll probably ride more. It will definitely make my life easier if I don't have to rely totally on public transit, which is how I generally get around in the winter.

It's a Beautiful Day

My skirt reminds me of sun-dappled grass.


Fall starts Sunday (at least that is what the weather people say) so I must enjoy while I can!

It Doesn't Feel Like Fall

It was a cool ride to work this morning but I knew I wouldn't need my sweater later. And since it was such a lovely afternoon, I dawdled all the way home attempting to capture myself on camera.

Here I have a lovely shot of my bell and my wrist and the river, oh, and kind of my shadow along the rail.
My camera bag. I am trying to find something small and cute, but that means I would have to go shopping, or sew something, and the weather is too nice to be inside. (I blog while I am cooking supper.) A winter project to be sure.

A slightly better shadow panda.

Wow, does it ever look like I am going fast; the ground is a blur!

According to the forecast, we should still have a few more above normal days. Hooray!

Waiting for the Brake Placement

N1's road bike is ready to go. She just wants him to try it to ensure the brake levers are in the right place before she tapes the handlebars.

Snazzy New Cable Housing

We went to Woodcock Cycle to pick up some new cables and housing for N1's bike. The old cable housing had been white, but we decided red would look spiffy.

As we were leaving, we saw this sweet little bike. The basket and the pedals are cute accessories.

I hope tho' that the pedals are as functional as they are whimsical.

I am not, however, terribly taken with these really fat tires. That belongs on a different style of bike. And I think they would be difficult to ride with. I've never tried really fat tires, so I could be wrong.

What the Papers Said

This article was in the Monday September 14 edition of the Winnipeg Free Press

Cyclists long for more good news
Traffic plans need work: bike festival attendees
By: Mary Agnes Welch
Fed up with dangerous drivers and piecemeal bike paths, the city's cyclists are hoping an avalanche of new funding will radically improve the city's bike routes.But some of the thousands of cyclists who cruised through Sunday's Ciclovia festival said bike-lane funding needs to become an automatic part of any new roads built or expanded in the city.
Sunday's festival, which shut Broadway down to traffic, was based on a similar event in Bogota, Colombia, where every Sunday as many as two million people bike through 120 km of streets closed to cars.
Winnipeg's event, the first one of its kind in Canada, was organized quickly by city cycling groups, the Downtown BIZ and the city, but it brought dozens of craft kiosks, information booths, kids' activities and entertainers downtown. And it also meant cyclists could ride for the first time from Assiniboine Park to The Forks on a traffic-free route.
The Ciclovia festival came just days after a big, pre-election funding announcement late last week from the federal Tory government. The Conservatives, along with the city and province, earmarked a total of $20 million for bike and walking paths and on-street bike lanes in 37 different Winnipeg locations.
Kevin Nixon, the city's active transportation co-ordinator, was parked in the middle of Broadway Sunday next to maps and schematics of all the paths he'd like to build. He said the infusion of federal and provincial cash means the city will be able to add dozens of bike trails next summer, filling in huge gaps in commuter lanes.
At the top of his agenda is a two-way, on-street bike lane down Assiniboine Avenue that he hopes can get built before the end of the year.
But some found it a little irksome that the city continues to build new roads, including the $55-million extension of Kenaston Boulevard to the Perimeter Highway, without automatically including commuter bike paths as part of the plan. The small steady changes the city has seen so far, like new recreational trails and the new bike lanes on some downtown streets, are helpful but don't go far enough.
"I would like to see some really big changes," said Kati Nagy, a nurse and fine arts student at the University of Manitoba. "They build new roads all the time. Most of the tiny changes to bike paths you don't even notice."
Nagy said the worst part of her commute is the Jubilee underpass, where tight traffic moves so fast that it pretty much kiboshes her ability to cycle to school. Bridges and underpasses are perennial trouble spots for cyclists.
Recreational cyclist Kerry Stevenson said the city needs to create a bike-path system that's as seamless and safe as possible if people are going to leave their cars at home.
"You've got to make it dead easy and people will use it," he said.
maryagnes.welch@freepress.mb.ca

Ciclovia

Winnipeg is the first Canadian city to host Ciclovia.

The north lanes of Broadway, a major downtown street, were closed off for several blocks.

There was a bike polo demonstration which seemed to garner a great deal of interest, much more than evidenced by these two participants.

A sandcastle building opportunity, more for the big kids, it would seem, than small.

The Geek practices her trackstand at a traffic light. I guess some cars should be allowed to go about their business...

On the way from downtown to visit friends in the southeast part of the city, we saw a trail we had never explored before. It was still a little muddy from the inch of rain on Friday, but still usable. While it didn't go anywhere terribly interesting, it still had to be checked.

Such a lovely day for outdoor capers

Cyclovia is Coming to the 'Peg

On Sunday September 13, Winnipeg becomes the first Canadian city to host this festival. Considering cycling is not very 'big' here yet, this is amazing!

This is what I found in the Winnipeg Free Press:

"Cyclovia coming to downtown

Inaugural street festival to celebrate day without automobiles

By: Bartley Kives

A portion of Broadway will be closed for one Sunday in September as the city holds a new bike-and-pedestrian street festival called Ciclovia.

In what amounts to the first large downtown street party since the Get Together Downtown events held during the Glen Murray years, the westbound lanes of Broadway will be closed Sept. 13 between Main Street and Osborne Street to make room for buskers, food vendors, a farmers' market, a straw maze and activities such as skateboar

ding, street hockey and sand sculpting.

Ciclovia, which means "bike path" in Spanish, is modelled on a festival that began in Bogota, Colombia and has since taken root in dozens of La

tin American cities as well as U.S. centres such as New York City, Miami, San Francisco, Cleveland and Portland, Ore.

"It's a day for people to get acquainted with their communities and celebrate a day without a car," said Stefano Grande, executive director of

the Downtown Winnipeg BIZ, the event's main organizer. "This is a pilot project, and if it's successful, we'll extend the (street closures) north, south, east and west next year."

Winnipeg's version of Ciclovia, which will wrap up with a concert at The Forks, comes with a $50,000 price tag to cover the cost of policing, barricades and bus rerouting. Grande said the city and corporate sponsors will split the cost, which is a small fraction of the $700,000-plus price tag for the Get Together Downtown festivals, which took place on Portage Avenue in 2001 and 2002.

The Ciclovia plan calls for the Broadway street festival to be connected to The Forks with a closed curb lane on northbound Main Street. West of Osborne Street, closed curb lanes on Broadway, Balmoral Street, Young Street, Westminster Avenue, Furby Street, Sherbrook Street and Maryland Street will connect the festival with regular Sunday street closures on Wolseley Avenue and Wellington Crescent. The event is being held in conjunction with Manitoba Homecoming 2010, a provincially sponsored effort to boost tourism in the province by targeting former residents. But the main impetus is to encourage more people to explore downtown without using a car.

St. Vital Coun. Gord Steeves, city council's community services chairman, said he likes the idea of a festival that might encourage people other than hardcore bike commuters to ride downtown.

Steeves said he's both amazed and pleased by the increased interest in both recreational and commuter cycling in wintery Winnipeg over the past four years.

"It's almost to the point where (commuter cycling) is mainstream," he said. "It's not quite there yet, but for cycling to even be considered as a viable mode of transportation is a big deal, because that's definitely a challenge in the Canadian climate."

An officially sanctioned cycling festival may also be seen as a response to Critical Mass, the unsanctioned cycling demonstrations that have occasionally appeared on Winnipeg streets. But that was not the organizers' intention, Grande said.

"We just want to encourage people to come downtown, on foot or on a bike," he said.

Almost two dozen businesses, environmental organizations, cycling groups and other non-profit organizations plan to participate in the festival.

bartley.kives@freepress.mb.ca

Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition August 21, 2009 B2"

If the Cat-in-the-Hat Rode a Bike...

it would probably look like this...

The Quest in the Bois-des-Esprit

After the thunderstorm last night the air was much cooler. I decided to ride to the Bois-des-Esprit in the Royalwood area of Winnipeg in an attempt to find the three-metre tall "Mhtik" (wood spirit) who protects the woodst.

I started on the Niakwa trail and then across Fermor at Archibald and through Willowdale Park to Bishop Grandin.
After crossing Bishop Grandin at Lakewood, I rode again down the Bishop Grandin Greenway and turned south down Shorehill Drive.
Royalwood is a fairly new development; construction is rampant and bicycles and pedestrians are thin on the ground.

I found a trailhead off of East Oak Drive and decided to try the right fork first.

It was lovely and cool in the trees, but after riding around for about 45 minutes, I still had found no trace of the carving.


I asked directions of a fellow who was out for a stroll. He said to look for a dirt path eight feet wide and the spirit would be a way in. Suspecting that the width of the path and the distance to the figure would be subjective, I turned down the first dirt trail I came to.

Eselin was slightly out of her element with the twisty paths and muddy patches, but she soldiered on gallantly.

I found the foot prints of people on mountain bikes at the point where I dismounted because of very soft ground. That made me feel better, especially since other people on mountain bikes behind us had turned around.


The path meandered around the equally meandering Seine River.


A doe, well conditioned by the people on the paths, hardly moved as I rode by. She was so still, in fact, that I initially thought she was a statue.

It was as I was zipping through this dip, avoiding the tree, and noting the bench and the fire pit, that I missed my objective and had to come back.This is Woody, a three meter tall wood spirit. Walter Mirosh and Robert Leclair, members of Les Gens de Bois Woodcarving club, are the men who carved him. The tree from which Woody emerged from was scheduled to be cut down due to Dutch Elm disease.

Our mission accomplished, Eselin and I continued west along Bishop Grandin to River Road, and then home.

Eseiln even managed to bring a souvenir of her journey.


The only downside of this lovely little trip? I had such a sore derriere that the last hour in the saddle were ...tricky.
The Geek is in Calgary right now. Maybe I'll ask her to see if anyone there sells Brooks saddles. I have heard so many good things about them, the price would be worth it.

Garage Sales by Bike

We rode the bikes to garage sales today. Bikes are actually the preferred method of transportation for these outings as you can park really close and therefore cover more ground.

One of the three vices the Geek bought for her workshop came home clamped to the rack of the Giant. The handlebars on the Giant have been raised about three inches, which makes it better to ride, even tho' it is not as yet optimal.
We went to six garage sales and found a vice at three of them.

The Geek pulls the cart with the rest of the useful loot, including one instrument of mayhem.
The trick to riding your bike to garage sales is to park your bike close enough that no one helps themselves to your stuff, but far enough away that the bikes aren't considered a part of the offerings.
And one more funny sign. The Geek wants to make one that says Stop Smoking!

A Flatlander Cycles in San Francisco

I received this e-mail a while back from my friend, a prairie boy, presently living in Victoria.

(ring ring) I like the bell. These straight bars are going to be a bit of a pain, and I'm sitting up higher than I want to, but as rentals go I could do a lot worse. This is the monologue that ran through my head as I pulled away from the Blazing Saddles bike rental kiosk at Pier 39 in San Francisco. "Blazing saddles" huh? The way I feel now, after seven hours on that bike the seat might as well have been on fire.

This morning I left at seven. I walked the length of the Embarkadero. I had a cup of coffee at Pier 39. I rented a bike at Blazing Saddles, and set out to see as much of San Francisco as my legs would allow in a single day. (Oooooooow! We interupt this e-mail to bring you the cramp you knew was coming... dummy.) Back to my story. The bike was what they call a hybrid. It had narrow tires like a road bike, but they were knobby on the sides to handle a little gravel. The seat was cushy (for a while). The handlebars were straight like a mountain bike, and it had a bell. I liked the bell. I liked it so much I rang it at everyone I passed as I peddled toward the Presideo, and beyond to the Golden Gate Bridge. I rang it at people walking, I rang it at people cycling. I rang it at this old guy doing tai chi. I rode along ringing my bell with a big goofy grin on my face knowing that the little Canadian flag on my backpack would protect me from scorn. People would just think, "Oh, he's Canadian. They're so polite." I passed the aquatic park where people swim in the ocean in the shadow of Frisco's great span. I'd grown tired of my bell by then so I didn't ring it at the swimmers. But I rang it at a woman walking her dog. Dirty look. No more ringing the bell.

The approach to the golden gate bridge is a pretty good climb. It's got to be about a hundred metres vertical from the Presideo to the bridge. It was hard work, but as I crested the top I was feeling very confident. I had conquered the climb to the bridge, and nothing would be nearly as challenging as that. The rest of the day would be a nice light cruise on this reasonably comfortable contraption. Store that away for later, as always I will refer back to it later in my story.

The bridge is amazing. It's impossible to take it all in except at a distance, and when you're on it, it makes you feel a little insignificant. In the morning I couldn't see the city from the bridge because of the fog. I could barely see the water. It was like flying above the clouds in an airplane. The bridge has it's own fog signals. They're a deep base horn, and they seem to make the whole bridge resonate. There are call boxes at regular intervals. They have blue plastic placards with a message written in a soothing font. "Crisis line. You're not alone, we can help you." I don't imagine they were in the original design. People were having they're pictures taken beside the call boxes. We are a morbid society.

On the north side of the bridge is Sausalito. It's a little like Victoria, except it has palm trees. I mean it has more palm trees. There are more trendy coffee shops than any other kind of business, and the most common car is made by BMW. I'm passed by about a hundred cyclists on my way into town. They all ride road bikes, and sport team racing outfits like you'd expect to see in the Tour-de-France. I see one at the side of the road. He's gone down. He has a tire in hand, and a line of snot connecting his face to the pump in his other hand. He's about seventy. I stop and ask him if he's alright, if he needs help. He smiles and lets out a little laugh, "No, no." he says in his French-Californian accent. "This too is part of the game. Thank you." I roll past.

As I enter Sausalito I remember reading about the Open Water Rowing Club. It's located on Liberty Ship Road. They rent shells out to visitors and casual users. I decide to try and locate them, and maybe take out a single. I stop at one of the prolific cafes and ask a trio of team racing outfits if they know of the club. One is Swiss. He knows where it is. Another is Italian, and he knows of another. So far everyone I've spoken to in Sausalito is European, belongs on a cycling team, and knows where a rowing club is. Well, that's not quite right. The French guy might have known where a rowing club was, but I hadn't thought to ask him. I follow the Swiss directions hoping I can identify the turn in the road he said would be obvious. I find it, and roll to a stop outside the Open Water Rowing Club on Liberty Ship Road.

I didn't get to row. I did get an invite back the next time I was in town. Had I called them just the day before i could have gone out with one of their crews, but as it was they were done for the day, and heading for an out-of-town regatta on Sunday. I chatted with the coach (whose name now escapes me), and said I would call ahead next time. Everyone is so friendly here.

Next stop, Mill Valley. Mill Valley is another small town, populated mostly by trendy coffee shops, and team racing outfits. It's also the place I made my mistake. I had taken along a map, provided by Blazing Saddles, with suggested routes, and approximate distances. Conspicuously absent was any indication of elevation. Anyway, the map had little bubbles indicating local attractions, on of which was Muir Woods. Muir Woods is a lot like Cathedral Grove. It's a stand of giant redwoods that have been preserved by making them a National Monument. The Mill Valley Grocery store is like something out of a Rockwell painting. There's fresh fruit lining the outside of the store, and what I take to be the manager is sitting in a chair by the door, white apron on, greeting customers. I roll up in front of him, and ask for directions. "Why?" This was his answer to, "How do I get to Muir Woods?" "Why? Why do you want directions to Muir Woods?" He realized i was confused by his reservation, and explained. "You know, it's quite a ride." I explained that I had already come from Pier 39, accross the Golden Gate, through Sausalito to meet him there in front of his store in Mill Valley. Muir Woods was just another 4 miles up the road... straight up. He was trying to tell me that the special kind of Hell I was biting off for myself was something that a guy on a Blazing Saddles rental bike should not be attempting, bell or no bell. I wouldn't listen. I had climbed the approach to the Golden Gate Bridge without even slipping into granny-gear (the lowest gear available). Surely I could make it up some hill between me and my giant redwoods. He sighed and reluctantly wrote out a set of very clear directions.

I don't remember the name of the mountain. It was Latin-American, but it just doesn't come to mind. It had an elevation of about a thousand metres. I might be way off, but I'll never know given that there were no elevations on my little map. (ring, ring) I rang my bell at the steep incline trying to prevent me from coming face to face with the world's tallest living things. It seemed to help. It made me smile. The pain that had settled in my hamstrings seemed to fade. (ring, ring) I was moving faster. (ring, ring) Whenever my mind started to tell me to turn around and go back down I rang my bell. At the top I surveyed the entire Bay area. San Francisco was like a model on the bookshelf, and Sausalito barely visible. Where were the trees? Oh. I had to go down the other side. I considered the possibilities. I could get to Muir Woods, and find out that I had a very delightful little ride out some back way that would end at the Golden Gate Bridge, returning me to San Francisco. I stopped considering possibilities. I had beaten the hardest climb I had ever undertaken on a bike. Surely I was up to this.

Turns out Mill Valley isn't at sea level. In fact I had been gradually climbing the whole way there, before my ill considered ride to the top of ______ Mountain. As a result the other side was quite a bit longer. I stopped at Muir Woods, and locked up my silver steed. I paid the three-dollar entrance fee. I was disappointed. They're tall. They have nothing on our Sitka Spruce for pure majesty. No need to go to California, just zip up the road to Port Renfrew, or Tofino. After pooh-poohing the silent giants I remounted my Blazing Saddle, and continued on down the mountain to Muir Beach. I had it in my head to rent a surfboard, and hang-ten in California the way I had in Waikiki. No such luck. No surf. I road on. I've never faced a greater physical challenge than that hill. The ride up from Muir Beach put me at odds with every muscle fibre in my body. It was excruciating, and it wouldn't end. The road twisted and turned, and at every new corner I would tell myself, "just around the next bend is the top" before another bend would appear. I can run a marathon. I can do it next week if I want to. I've done a half. This hill was at least five times more demanding. It was a two-hour climb.

I had to walk the last four blocks to return my bike to the Blazing Saddles rental kiosk. I thought about stealing the bell. I thought about how I would recommend elevations be included on their maps. I thought about how my ass was never going to recover. The woman at the kiosk took out a marker when I told her where I had been. She traced the route on a map on the counter, counted, laughed. It had been quite a day.

The Sincerest Form Of Flattery

Is to blatantly steal this clip from Dottie and Trisha.
Thank you