Several hillclimb enthusiasts have asked me recently "what's up with BUMPS?" The website at hillclimbseries.com was down. I had hoped it was just a case that somebody forgot to renew the domain name registration. So I pinged a couple BUMPS hillclimb race directors to see what was going on.
I was disappointed to learn BUMPS has disbanded. To be sure, the individual races will still go on, but no longer as part of an organized championship series. It was a good run for seven years. Many KOMs and QOMs were crowned.
Registration numbers have dropped off a bit at some of the hillclimb events. I believe there are many factors behind this.
Interest in road cycling peaked a decade ago. We know today that doping fueled much of the excitement and perceived growth in the sport. The house of cards came crashing down, leaving disillusioned cycling fans in the ruins. Even the USA Pro Challenge in Colorado is going on a hiatus this year.
Has interest shifted in another direction? Absolutely! Cycling in the US is alive and well. Recreational and competitive cyclists alike now sell out events where fun is emphasized over competition.
On the road, gran fondos have become more popular than traditional road races. These events may be timed or have timed segments along the course, like a few prominent climbs for example. Thus it quenches the thirst for competition, but most of the event can be completed at a more recreational pace.
Similarly on the MTB scene. Many racers have switched over to the enduro format of racing, where there are timed segments along a course or different timed stages over a period of a few days. The timed segments are usually point to point and downhill, but not always. There is more emphasis on skill and less on racing head to head with your peers around laps of a circuit.
Then there's the 'tweener category of gravel grinders. These events sell out quickly with many hundreds of participants. They are billed as a fun ride, but those at the front are no doubt racing to cross the finish first for bragging rights. Grinders are mixed surface, everything from paved roads to rough singletrack, and usually ridden on a 'cross bike. Check out the VT Epic weekend. A new 70 mile VTMonster course has been added with 9000ft of climbing!
This is the new face of cycling. The traditional camps of road racing and MTB racing have been blurred by these new formats. It is evolution of sport. Change is inevitable, healthy and expected.
Hillclimb racing has always been a bit of a fringe, esoteric camp of the cycling tribe. I still have a great fondness for climbing and will still compete in local hillclimb events. Just as interests in the cycling community have evolved, so too have my personal interests. I've developed an unexpected passion for climbing on foot. I've hiked most of New Hampshire's 4000ft peeks in the last nine months. The pace and rhythm of hiking is very different from riding or skiing, but equally effective for putting one in a flow state.
I'll put a note up on northeastcycling.com when I get a chance. Most of the local hillclimb races will go on as usual. Equinox is back this year! Washington is nearly sold out. Then there is Whiteface, Okemo, Greylock, Kearsarge and Wachusett. The July Newton's Revenge race on Mt Washington is taking a year off. Hard to say if Ascutney will come back this year. That still leaves seven northeast events to test yourself in.
One other event I'd like to mention is the inaugural national hillclimb championships on Pikes Peak in August. A couple of people have ask me if I was interested. I plan to visit Colorado a few weeks later, so I can't make it. I've raced Pikes Peak twice when it started down in Manitou Springs. The scenery is spectacular, the climb brutal. The race now starts just above 9000ft, but it is comparable to a Mt Washington in vertical, almost as steep, with rarefied air! Think you've got the goods? Head to Colorado in August for your chance to zip on a stars and stripes.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Thursday, March 10, 2016
Can we stop with the fat?
Summer 2016 will mark the 20th year that I identify myself as a cyclist. Back in 1996, Fat Doug threw a leg over a bicycle to save his body from eventual diabetes and heart disease. Hard to believe how fast those 20 years went by. Best 20 years of my life. This post isn't about Fat Doug or that kind of fat.
Over the years I've ridden many types of mountain bikes configured in all manner of ways. For years I was a hardtail holdout, riding narrow 1.95" tires. Back then I thought 2.2" wide tires were really fat, rolled too slow and were too heavy. Perhaps one of the biggest abominations I rode was my Titus Racer-X full suspension bike with 1" wide road tires up Pikes Peak. Yeah, that drew some weird looks. I could only bring one bike to CO, and I wanted to ride up Pikes Peak again on a closed course from 6000 to 14,000ft. After the race, regular knobbies went back on the bike. Funny back then, mountain bikes were called fat tire bikes, presumably to differentiate them from road bikes.
As the MTB community weened itself from fretting over grams, bikes got beefier, travel longer and tires wider. We were still just riding our bikes. There was no need to say "I'm riding my 2.2" bike today," or "I'm riding my 2.4" bike today." All that mattered is you rode.
But then came along winter fat bikes, which are just called "fat bikes" today. The old fat bikes, regular mountain bikes, are ironically call skinny bikes now. The fat bike Kool Aid was quite intoxicating. Everybody had to have one, even roadies that had never mountain biked in their life.
Suddenly, things changed. You could ride only fat bikes on groomed snow. Fat bike races appeared on the calendar, where, you guessed it, only fat bikes were allowed. Group rides were advertised as fat. Ride reports, Strava posts, Facebook statuses all had to say if a ride was fat or not. Now that the snow is gone, the distinction persists. Why is this?
I can think of several reasons. Perhaps the infatuation with riding fat bikes got so deeply embedded in our psyche that we have to shout out "fattie ride!" every time we ride our fat bikes. The bikes do certainly offer a different ride quality, and I can see how some folks like it.
Maybe it's something else. Fat bikes run with low PSI in the tires certainly don't roll as fast as our nimble, capable full-suspension 29ers. Could touting a ride as "fat" be some sort of "I'm not slow, I was just on my fat bike!" apology?
Sometimes only a fat bike will work in the conditions. Perhaps calling a ride a fat ride is explanatory for how you were able to accomplish the ride given the conditions. Certainly after a big snow dump, anything but a fat bike would be a miserable experience.
This distinction of fat vs. non-fat riding becomes apparent only via the social media. What if social media didn't exist? What if there was no way to exclaim to the world "we're on our fat bikes!"? If only the people you're riding with know what bike you are on, there'd be no reason to say "I'm riding fat today!" It would be obvious to them and they wouldn't care. You would just be out riding your bikes, like in the old days.
Over the years I've ridden many types of mountain bikes configured in all manner of ways. For years I was a hardtail holdout, riding narrow 1.95" tires. Back then I thought 2.2" wide tires were really fat, rolled too slow and were too heavy. Perhaps one of the biggest abominations I rode was my Titus Racer-X full suspension bike with 1" wide road tires up Pikes Peak. Yeah, that drew some weird looks. I could only bring one bike to CO, and I wanted to ride up Pikes Peak again on a closed course from 6000 to 14,000ft. After the race, regular knobbies went back on the bike. Funny back then, mountain bikes were called fat tire bikes, presumably to differentiate them from road bikes.
An abomination! Not just the bike, the fanny pack too!
As the MTB community weened itself from fretting over grams, bikes got beefier, travel longer and tires wider. We were still just riding our bikes. There was no need to say "I'm riding my 2.2" bike today," or "I'm riding my 2.4" bike today." All that mattered is you rode.
But then came along winter fat bikes, which are just called "fat bikes" today. The old fat bikes, regular mountain bikes, are ironically call skinny bikes now. The fat bike Kool Aid was quite intoxicating. Everybody had to have one, even roadies that had never mountain biked in their life.
Suddenly, things changed. You could ride only fat bikes on groomed snow. Fat bike races appeared on the calendar, where, you guessed it, only fat bikes were allowed. Group rides were advertised as fat. Ride reports, Strava posts, Facebook statuses all had to say if a ride was fat or not. Now that the snow is gone, the distinction persists. Why is this?
I can think of several reasons. Perhaps the infatuation with riding fat bikes got so deeply embedded in our psyche that we have to shout out "fattie ride!" every time we ride our fat bikes. The bikes do certainly offer a different ride quality, and I can see how some folks like it.
Maybe it's something else. Fat bikes run with low PSI in the tires certainly don't roll as fast as our nimble, capable full-suspension 29ers. Could touting a ride as "fat" be some sort of "I'm not slow, I was just on my fat bike!" apology?
Sometimes only a fat bike will work in the conditions. Perhaps calling a ride a fat ride is explanatory for how you were able to accomplish the ride given the conditions. Certainly after a big snow dump, anything but a fat bike would be a miserable experience.
This distinction of fat vs. non-fat riding becomes apparent only via the social media. What if social media didn't exist? What if there was no way to exclaim to the world "we're on our fat bikes!"? If only the people you're riding with know what bike you are on, there'd be no reason to say "I'm riding fat today!" It would be obvious to them and they wouldn't care. You would just be out riding your bikes, like in the old days.
Monday, February 22, 2016
An Engineer's OCD
Let's face it, I'm a bit of a metrics geek. About as soon as I learned how to read, I memorized stats on all the planets. How far from the sun, orbit duration's, size, etc. Numbers and how things interact with each other have always fascinated me.
All of my off-road bicycles have wheel sensors on them. GPS receivers do a surprisingly lousy job measuring distance in tight and twisty terrain. A wheel sensor communicates wirelessly with the GPS unit and provides ground truth. The metrics geek in me would accept nothing less.
When I built up my quasi-fat bike last fall, I transferred the Garmin wheel sensor from the bike I decommissioned. It refused to work properly. I replaced the battery. No improvement. I tried a different magnet. No luck. The sensor synced up well via the Ant+ link, but it would always record way more distance than I rode. Much of the time my speed would show up on the Garmin at twice what I was actually travelling. I figured it was an old Garmin GSC-10 sensor that had a spotty reliability record to begin with, so it must have gone bad. I ordered a new Wahoo sensor.
I mounted the new sensor, synced it up, figured that would be it. Except exactly, the same, thing, still, happened! SOB! This became an obsessive issue now. There is no way a stupid magnet/reed switch sensor is going to thwart me. This is 100+ year old technology, and I could design a wireless link from scratch. What was different about this new bike that all manner of sensor and magnet combinations wouldn't work that worked flawlessly on other bikes?
Let's look at how these speed (or cadence) sensors work. If you use one, listen in a quiet room as you spin the wheel. You'll hear a faint poink, poink, poink as the wheel rotates. It is the mechanical reed switch in the sensor opening up each time the magnet moves away.
A reed switch is nothing more than two piece of springy metal overlapping each other with a small gap between them. Put a magnet near one end, the magnetic flux wants to flow through the metal and cause the two "reed" ends to attract each other and close the gap. It is a magnetically actuated switch. Electronics in the sensor module detect each closure (which is each wheel revolution) and sends this to the Garmin GPS via an encoded radio message.
It turns out you need a north or south pole to pass by one of the ends of the reed switch. You can't put a magnetic pole in the middle, as this doesn't cause flux to flow through the reeds to make a magnetic circuit that closes the switch. A spoke magnet presents a north or south pole to the reed switch. Thus the magnet must pass exactly over the end of the reed switch to trigger it. Sensors have a mark where this spot is.
But a reed switch really has two ends, and either end can be triggered by the spoke magnet. If you passed a magnet's north pole along the length of a reed switch, it would turn on once passing over the first end, turn off in the middle, then turn on again passing over the second end of the reed switch. Manufactures don't tell you about this. They mark only one end.
When I sat down to carefully listen to the sensor, I didn't here a poink, poink, poink. I heard a poink-poink, poink-poink, poink-poink. Ah-ha! It is double actuating each time the magnet came by. But why?
It turns out the carbon rigid fork has some fundamental geometry differences from the suspension forks on my other mountain bikes. The suspension forks have a lot of offset built into the drop-out. This allows the fork leg mounted sensor to be positioned such that the magnet passes by perpendicularly. But on my new Carver, the offset is built into the angle of the fork legs. This pushes the sensor much further forward relative to the wheel axle, so the magnet now sweeps more top to bottom than across the trigger point. The magnet was just passing through the unintended trigger area of the sensor!
A little fudging ensured the magnet only passed through the intended trigger area. A test ride confirmed I now measured ground truth! It's embarrassing how many times I fussed with this before figuring it out.
I slid the magnet closer to the axle to ensure it would not trigger the upper sensitive area
while being just far enough into the lower sensitive area without missing triggers.
I wish challenges I deal with at work had fixes this certain. Sometimes you think you've got to the root cause, only to find the problem comes back to bite you in the ass.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Awkward Cannon
I've found a new reason to like three-day weekends. It makes it easier to squeeze in all the activities I enjoy. My company gives us every-other Friday off by working a modified work schedule. So what about the weekends where I do not get Friday off? There are only two days to pack in hiking, skiing and biking. That just means I have to double up some days!
I signed up for the Ski to the Clouds race in March. It is a 10k freestyle race that finishes at tree line on Mt Washington. I need to start working some intensity back into my routine. Bonus if it is on skis. Nordic skiing intensity trumps any other kind of intensity in my opinion, because a) it uses all the major muscle groups and b) it is weight bearing. So my weekend would be planned around skiing first, then other activities worked around skiing.
Local skiing has been marginal at best this winter. There's some pretty good skiing in Maine, but I spent way too much time in cars last weekend. I wanted to stay closer this weekend if possible. I settled on Waterville on Saturday. Reports said Tripoli Rd was in good shape. If I'm going for a workout, that is all that really matters. 20 minutes above threshold repeats up that 800ft beast quickly reduces all my muscles into quivering jelly. The grooming was flawless, but cover was very thin in most areas. After a couple repeats on kinder, gentler Livermore Rd (with one face plant from hitting a rock), I went over to the Tripoli Rd side. Three times up Tripoli finished me off nicely. Skied 50km with 4000ft of climbing.
There was still several hours of daylight left, and I was in the White mountains. There are several peaks I've yet to visit. I just so happened to have all my hiking gear in the car. Uh-huh. I sort of hiked up Cannon Mtn before. It was during the Franconia Sufferfest race. The race started at the Franconia Inn, climbed via XC trails to the base of Cannon Mountain ski area, then straight up the alpine ski slope. Did the organizers really think we could ride up that? I thought it would be very difficult, bordering physically impossible. Turns out the winner, and myself finishing second, hike-a-biked 99.99% of the climb. Does that count as "officially" hiking Cannon? No, but I'll say lugging a 25lb bike up to the top is way harder than hiking with a pack. So I hopped in the car after skiing and headed north on I-93 instead of south to go home.
In the tram parking lot, I realized I forgot several items when I left in haste that morning. Such as dry street clothes when I was done for the day and my micro spikes. The clothes, meh. Spikes? SOB! I did bring my snowshoes just in case. I had never hiked in snowshoes before, despite buying a pair almost a year ago. Guess there has to be a first time at some point. I did not put them on right away. As I walked to the trail head, a small group had just finished hiking the Kinsman Ridge Trail from the summit. They said I'll want snowshoes the whole way up.
Have you ever put swimming fins on and try to walk with them? That is how I felt when I first strapped the shoes to my boots. Awkward, to say the least. Took several stops to get them adjusted right too. I knew this hike would be steep, but I really underestimated the impact of steepness hiking with snowshoes for the first time. There were tight rock squeezes, occasional root catches, big step-ups, icy sections, all manner of hazards that wouldn't have even registered if I had brought my microspikes. To be sure, most people coming down had snowshoes on, but one couple did not. The guy (husband?) jokingly warned me, saying "watch out, she'll take you down like a bowling pin." Haha.
Not only did I tangle myself up in tight spots, I found the snowshoes offered poor grip on ice compared to my microspikes. One thing I found very helpful though, was the heel lift option. Used it right from the bottom. That surely saved me from calf and Achilles grief. I thought this four mile hike should be easy to bang out in less than 2hrs, but now finishing with lights was looking probable. Perhaps the descent would be much less problematic.
Once I got part way up, the stream of people coming down stopped. I had amazing views all to myself from the ledge and the summit observation deck. I had to take the snowshoes off to negotiate the stairs. How do you think that worked out with the steps completely filled in with ice? Yep, yard sale on the way back down. Glad I was at least holding the railing. It was so slick I chose to slide down the rest of the steps on my ass. After gathering my scattered shoes and poles on the landing, I thought hard about maybe just hiking down a ski run. It was almost 4pm and the lifts would stop shortly. Where would the glory be in that though?
As I headed down, I learned the mountain get even steeper! I found the snowshoes a bit terrifying in spots. It has stayed cold since last snowfall and the snow wasn't set up yet. The shoes acted like skis in spots. The steepness combined with always loading feet at a downward angle meant huge tension in the knees too. My knees do not take kindly to that abuse. I'm pretty sure my time going down was just as long if not longer than my moving time hiking up. So much for making up time on the way back down.
I made it back to the car well past sunset, within minutes of needing the light, without any carnage. Not sure what to make of hiking in snowshoes. I felt vulnerable the whole time, like I could catch on something and blow a knee out. Perhaps with more snow cover and experience, that uneasiness will go away. I did notice most folks had narrower, lighter duty snowshoes. That would be worth looking into for when trail is already broken out. Anyway, the hike was thoroughly satisfying, finishing the day with 6600ft climbing on snow.
White canopy heading up Kinsman Ridge Trail from the Tramway parking lot
Trees getting stubby approaching 4000ft on Kinsman Ridge Trail
Franconia Ridge from Cannon Cliffs
Looking down I-93 from Cannon Cliffs. Massive snowstorm was brewing
further down the east coast. Sunny north of the Notch
Calm, cold and sunny with Mt Layfayette from Cannon Cliffs
Approaching summit of Cannon Mtn
Looking south(ish) into the low sun at the Cannon Balls and the Kinsmans from
Cannon Mtn observation deck
Franconia Ridge from Cannon observation deck
Kinsman Ridge Trail above Cannon Cliffs heading back down
Sun setting with 700ft of vertical drop back to car
Sunday, January 3, 2016
What's All This List Stuff Anyhow?
Year's ago, I used to read a column by Bob Pease that was always titled "What's all this ____ stuff, anyhow?" where the blank was filled with the month's topic. Topics were often about engineering methods or approaches where there were different camps of thought. Pease was also a bit of a curmudgeon, skeptical of computer modelling and the internet. His favorite programming language? Solder. Yes, that means build a piece of electronic hardware and see if it works or not. Pease also enjoyed the outdoors and wrote about hikes in the northeast.
In 2015, I got turned on to hiking. There are vast areas of New England that cannot be reached by bike. You have to go in by foot. 3000ft net gain climbs galore? I'm into that. The rhythm of hiking differs from cycling, or even skate skiing for that matter. It is slower, yet it can demand much cardio fitness when going up 60% grades. It is very easy to slip into a flow state while hiking.
You meet a lot of interesting people on the trail. Reasons that draw people to the trail are diverse. Invariably, it seems everybody is working on one list or another. So what's all this list stuff, anyhow?
Shortly after moving to New Hampshire in 1997, I became aware of the 4000 footers list. There are 48 peaks that are above 4000ft elevation and have 200ft prominence. I knew people working on this list. Planned hikes were based on what they "needed," which meant a peak they haven't "bagged" yet. I thought this was kind of arbitrary. Why not 1000 meters or 5000ft? Guess the list would be too long or too short then. 48 peaks is a number most fit people could achieve in a reasonable amount of time.
What spiked my interest in hiking was an invite to do the Presidential Range traverse in a day. My wife and I plan to move out west some day and I wanted to experience the Presi traverse before moving. This is a more serious undertaking than hitting one or two peaks in a single hike, as the Presi traverse entails upwards of 20 miles of rugged terrain and 10,000ft of climbing. During the traverse, new terms were learned. One was redlining. A couple we crossed paths with multiple times were "redlining." I wondered, was this like going all-out, like redlining an auto engine? Hmmm. Then Soups explained it to me. You take an AMC trail map, not any particular one, then hike every single trail on it, highlighting in red as you complete them. This means dead-ends to outhouses, spurs to outlooks, every trailhead, etc. That is dedication. Probably looks pretty impressive when complete and worth framing. There was also a runner out there that day doing a double Presi-traverse in a single day. Was he going for the FKT? Fastest Known Time was another term I did know before I started hiking.
Now that it is winter, I learned there is a "Winter 48" list. So hiking the 48 4000-footers when it is nice out isn't enough. Now you have to do them between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox. Additional gear is needed. Traction devices like micro-spikes, crampons or snowshoes. Or survival items, like extra dry layers, emergency shelter, etc. Parts of the White mountains have the worst weather on Earth and people regularly die in the Whites.
But wait, there's more. There's The Grid. Why not hike all 48 4kers in every month of the year? That is 12x48=576 peaks to bag. Many have completed it. One of the last hikes I did up to the Twins, I met two people up top. They asked if I was a "Gridder." Fortunately I had already learned what that was and didn't look like a complete idiot. Surely I must have been a gridder, hiking up there solo after the trailhead gates had been locked, on a wintry day. I told them I wasn't sure I was pursuing any list. They replied they were passive gridders themselves, but they had completed about half of the grid. That doesn't sound all that passive to me...
I learned rules go along with these lists too. For example, some hikes it is possible to ride a bike part way in, say to the wilderness boundary. But no, that doesn't count. You must hike all the way in from a legitimate trailhead. Soups pointed this one out to me when I mentioned I was going to bike/hike to Owl's Head. You can do that, but then you can't claim Owl's Head on your 48 list. So I toughed out those extra 5 miles on foot. Can't say why, as I'm still not sure if I'll hike all 4000 footers or not.
There are many other lists people are chasing, like the Hundred Highest, Fifty Finest, Trailwrights 72, etc. Everybody has their reasons. One person I met said hiking was like therapy and the list provided focus and motivation to keep it going. Some do it for bragging rights, I'm sure. I suspect others become enslaved by lists. There was a very good discussion thread on Views from the Top forum a while back.
And if humans pursing lists weren't enough, there are lists for canines too. That adds another dimension to figuring out what hike to hit next. What do I need? What does Fido need? Then try to coordinate with friends and their dogs and what they need. Gets pretty complicated.
My first reaction to all these lists was it is pretty silly. But then I realized I have been chasing a list myself for a long time: Mountain biking in all 50 states. I am two states away from completing my list, Mississippi and Louisiana yet to be colored in. I use this goal of riding dirt in each state as a way to see parts of the country I wouldn't normally get to see and experience diversity in riding terrain our country offers. So yeah, I can relate to hikers pursuing lists. I am not a slave to my list. I've been working on it for 15+ years. I let opportunity work in my favor. Work travels have helped me "bag" many states. Wife wants to go to Hawaii? Sure. Bike is coming along. I also don't avoid going to states I've already biked in in favor of hitting a state I "need." Case in point, I go to Arizona or Utah every spring. Riding there that time of year is just too friggin awesome to pass up for a less awesome place because I haven't bagged it yet.
Anyway, I've maintained a detailed log since 2001. I used to call it my training log. I don't really train for specific events anymore. It is an activity log. My activities are more therapy than training these days. My 2015 activity pie chart looks much different in years past. Road cycling hours continue to diminish, mountain biking hours increase, and then a large new slice shows up with hiking. I wonder how this will evolve in 2016?
2015 saw the most aerobic activity hours I've ever logged in a year, almost 750. I strive for 600hrs, what I feel is the minimum therapeutic benefit threshold. The big increase is due mostly to hiking. Even taking hiking out of the picture, I still would have had over 600hrs. Not sure 750 is sustainable going forward, so something else will have to give a little, especially if I attempt a Pemi Loop in 2016...
In 2015, I got turned on to hiking. There are vast areas of New England that cannot be reached by bike. You have to go in by foot. 3000ft net gain climbs galore? I'm into that. The rhythm of hiking differs from cycling, or even skate skiing for that matter. It is slower, yet it can demand much cardio fitness when going up 60% grades. It is very easy to slip into a flow state while hiking.
You meet a lot of interesting people on the trail. Reasons that draw people to the trail are diverse. Invariably, it seems everybody is working on one list or another. So what's all this list stuff, anyhow?
Shortly after moving to New Hampshire in 1997, I became aware of the 4000 footers list. There are 48 peaks that are above 4000ft elevation and have 200ft prominence. I knew people working on this list. Planned hikes were based on what they "needed," which meant a peak they haven't "bagged" yet. I thought this was kind of arbitrary. Why not 1000 meters or 5000ft? Guess the list would be too long or too short then. 48 peaks is a number most fit people could achieve in a reasonable amount of time.
What spiked my interest in hiking was an invite to do the Presidential Range traverse in a day. My wife and I plan to move out west some day and I wanted to experience the Presi traverse before moving. This is a more serious undertaking than hitting one or two peaks in a single hike, as the Presi traverse entails upwards of 20 miles of rugged terrain and 10,000ft of climbing. During the traverse, new terms were learned. One was redlining. A couple we crossed paths with multiple times were "redlining." I wondered, was this like going all-out, like redlining an auto engine? Hmmm. Then Soups explained it to me. You take an AMC trail map, not any particular one, then hike every single trail on it, highlighting in red as you complete them. This means dead-ends to outhouses, spurs to outlooks, every trailhead, etc. That is dedication. Probably looks pretty impressive when complete and worth framing. There was also a runner out there that day doing a double Presi-traverse in a single day. Was he going for the FKT? Fastest Known Time was another term I did know before I started hiking.
Now that it is winter, I learned there is a "Winter 48" list. So hiking the 48 4000-footers when it is nice out isn't enough. Now you have to do them between the winter solstice and the vernal equinox. Additional gear is needed. Traction devices like micro-spikes, crampons or snowshoes. Or survival items, like extra dry layers, emergency shelter, etc. Parts of the White mountains have the worst weather on Earth and people regularly die in the Whites.
But wait, there's more. There's The Grid. Why not hike all 48 4kers in every month of the year? That is 12x48=576 peaks to bag. Many have completed it. One of the last hikes I did up to the Twins, I met two people up top. They asked if I was a "Gridder." Fortunately I had already learned what that was and didn't look like a complete idiot. Surely I must have been a gridder, hiking up there solo after the trailhead gates had been locked, on a wintry day. I told them I wasn't sure I was pursuing any list. They replied they were passive gridders themselves, but they had completed about half of the grid. That doesn't sound all that passive to me...
I learned rules go along with these lists too. For example, some hikes it is possible to ride a bike part way in, say to the wilderness boundary. But no, that doesn't count. You must hike all the way in from a legitimate trailhead. Soups pointed this one out to me when I mentioned I was going to bike/hike to Owl's Head. You can do that, but then you can't claim Owl's Head on your 48 list. So I toughed out those extra 5 miles on foot. Can't say why, as I'm still not sure if I'll hike all 4000 footers or not.
There are many other lists people are chasing, like the Hundred Highest, Fifty Finest, Trailwrights 72, etc. Everybody has their reasons. One person I met said hiking was like therapy and the list provided focus and motivation to keep it going. Some do it for bragging rights, I'm sure. I suspect others become enslaved by lists. There was a very good discussion thread on Views from the Top forum a while back.
And if humans pursing lists weren't enough, there are lists for canines too. That adds another dimension to figuring out what hike to hit next. What do I need? What does Fido need? Then try to coordinate with friends and their dogs and what they need. Gets pretty complicated.
My first reaction to all these lists was it is pretty silly. But then I realized I have been chasing a list myself for a long time: Mountain biking in all 50 states. I am two states away from completing my list, Mississippi and Louisiana yet to be colored in. I use this goal of riding dirt in each state as a way to see parts of the country I wouldn't normally get to see and experience diversity in riding terrain our country offers. So yeah, I can relate to hikers pursuing lists. I am not a slave to my list. I've been working on it for 15+ years. I let opportunity work in my favor. Work travels have helped me "bag" many states. Wife wants to go to Hawaii? Sure. Bike is coming along. I also don't avoid going to states I've already biked in in favor of hitting a state I "need." Case in point, I go to Arizona or Utah every spring. Riding there that time of year is just too friggin awesome to pass up for a less awesome place because I haven't bagged it yet.
Anyway, I've maintained a detailed log since 2001. I used to call it my training log. I don't really train for specific events anymore. It is an activity log. My activities are more therapy than training these days. My 2015 activity pie chart looks much different in years past. Road cycling hours continue to diminish, mountain biking hours increase, and then a large new slice shows up with hiking. I wonder how this will evolve in 2016?
2015 saw the most aerobic activity hours I've ever logged in a year, almost 750. I strive for 600hrs, what I feel is the minimum therapeutic benefit threshold. The big increase is due mostly to hiking. Even taking hiking out of the picture, I still would have had over 600hrs. Not sure 750 is sustainable going forward, so something else will have to give a little, especially if I attempt a Pemi Loop in 2016...
Friday, November 27, 2015
Birth of a New Turkey Burner Tradition?
The day after Thanksgiving is typically reserved for "burner" activities. For many years, I've enjoyed the FOMBA Turkey Burner. Held late in fall, weather was pretty unpredictable. Some years were bitter cold with rock hard frozen ground. Others were entertaining in 2-4" of snow. There were a couple years in bone chilling rain, which sucked. Last year the T-burner was cancelled due to pending major snow storm.
This year the FOMBA Turkey Burner was cancelled again, well in advance of the event. Don't know why. The weather turned out to be phenomenal for the day after Thanksgiving, the best in my 18 years here in New Hampshire.
Filling the gap this year, a new cycling club State 9 Racing hosted an informal T-burner event. A different starting venue and very different route were used, something a little more to my liking - longer and hillier! For my non-New England readers, New Hampshire was the 9th state to ratify the current US Constitution, thus State 9 Racing.
The ride overwhelmed the FOMBA parking area on Depot Road. Three groups headed out around 9am, a CX bike group, B-group and A-group. I rolled out with 15 others in the A group, doing an extended route at sporty pace.
A few minutes into the ride, a rider already hit the deck right in front of me. A random diagonal steel pipe sweaty with dew has a way of taking your front wheel away from you. It was so warm out that the ground was below the dew point. Those of us starting out with long layers were soon removing them. The temp quickly rose above 60F! Not much recent rain meant the trails were in mint condition too.
The snowmobile corridor Trail 15N took us up to Bear Brook State Park, 10,000 acres with growing network of flowy singletrack. We hit Hedgehog Ledge trail first. I was going to ride the granite staircase, something I haven't done in years. On a long travel 29er, it should be a piece of cake. But then I saw many guys bail on committing in front of me. When I got up to the lip, I hesitated, then it was all over. Once you lose your nerve, its not good to go anyway. I've ridden it many times on a 26" wheeled MTB. Guess I've become more risk adverse over the years. The consequences of botching that drop are severe, but the probability of it going awry is perhaps low. It's a psychological thing.
The hiker-biker lot in Bear Brook was the mid-point of our ride. State 9 Racing had set up their canopy with food table there. Treats graciously provided by one of their sponsors Jake's Old Fashioned Ice Cream and Bake Shop were heavenly. All three groups followed routes to get us there around 11am, which proved successful. After some socializing, groups shuffled up a bit. The A-group pared down to 10 riders.
We first swung north in the park to hit much of the newer NEMBA built singletrack before working our way south on the famed Hemlock Trail and out of the park. Our route back to FOMBA followed mostly Class VI town roads, often chunder buried deeply with oak leaves. Fortunately, I'm very familiar with this route without leaves and knew where to be careful or what line not to take. More riders hit the deck, fortunately nothing serious.
My sensored Garmin logged 38 miles in 3.3hrs moving time with 2900ft of climbing. Couldn't have been a nicer day, and it was a great group to ride with. Always cool to meet and ride with new people. Everybody has a different riding style, strengths and weaknesses. You always learn something when you see how the rider in front of you plies their strengths and weakness against the terrain. I'll leave you with photos I and a few others captured.
This year the FOMBA Turkey Burner was cancelled again, well in advance of the event. Don't know why. The weather turned out to be phenomenal for the day after Thanksgiving, the best in my 18 years here in New Hampshire.
Filling the gap this year, a new cycling club State 9 Racing hosted an informal T-burner event. A different starting venue and very different route were used, something a little more to my liking - longer and hillier! For my non-New England readers, New Hampshire was the 9th state to ratify the current US Constitution, thus State 9 Racing.
The ride overwhelmed the FOMBA parking area on Depot Road. Three groups headed out around 9am, a CX bike group, B-group and A-group. I rolled out with 15 others in the A group, doing an extended route at sporty pace.
A few minutes into the ride, a rider already hit the deck right in front of me. A random diagonal steel pipe sweaty with dew has a way of taking your front wheel away from you. It was so warm out that the ground was below the dew point. Those of us starting out with long layers were soon removing them. The temp quickly rose above 60F! Not much recent rain meant the trails were in mint condition too.
The snowmobile corridor Trail 15N took us up to Bear Brook State Park, 10,000 acres with growing network of flowy singletrack. We hit Hedgehog Ledge trail first. I was going to ride the granite staircase, something I haven't done in years. On a long travel 29er, it should be a piece of cake. But then I saw many guys bail on committing in front of me. When I got up to the lip, I hesitated, then it was all over. Once you lose your nerve, its not good to go anyway. I've ridden it many times on a 26" wheeled MTB. Guess I've become more risk adverse over the years. The consequences of botching that drop are severe, but the probability of it going awry is perhaps low. It's a psychological thing.
The hiker-biker lot in Bear Brook was the mid-point of our ride. State 9 Racing had set up their canopy with food table there. Treats graciously provided by one of their sponsors Jake's Old Fashioned Ice Cream and Bake Shop were heavenly. All three groups followed routes to get us there around 11am, which proved successful. After some socializing, groups shuffled up a bit. The A-group pared down to 10 riders.
We first swung north in the park to hit much of the newer NEMBA built singletrack before working our way south on the famed Hemlock Trail and out of the park. Our route back to FOMBA followed mostly Class VI town roads, often chunder buried deeply with oak leaves. Fortunately, I'm very familiar with this route without leaves and knew where to be careful or what line not to take. More riders hit the deck, fortunately nothing serious.
My sensored Garmin logged 38 miles in 3.3hrs moving time with 2900ft of climbing. Couldn't have been a nicer day, and it was a great group to ride with. Always cool to meet and ride with new people. Everybody has a different riding style, strengths and weaknesses. You always learn something when you see how the rider in front of you plies their strengths and weakness against the terrain. I'll leave you with photos I and a few others captured.
Some of the group gathering before the ride at FOMBA
Andy leading the A-group on Trail 15N to Bear Brook
Group photo op at Bear Hill Pond
Another angle at Bear Hill Pond. Is it really almost December?!
Dodging boulders on Hedgehog Ledge Trail
Hedgehog Ledge. Felt like summer.
State 9 Racing volunteers set up feed stop at the hiker-biker parking lot in Bear Brook.
Mmmm, Jake's baked goods! (photo Doug R.)
Fullest I've ever seen this lot, and we didn't park here! Really cool to see Bear Brook blossom like this, thanks to NEMBA's hard work gaining the confidence of the state to build and maintain trail.
Might be everybody from three riding groups here. Didn't get name of woman who took the photo.
Beaver Pond Trail, sketchy log bridge section. Almost nobody attempted to ride it...
...Jonathan made it look easy.
Dave on Class VI trail, which took us back to towards FOMBA. Note ice on pond and short sleeves. Awesome!
There's no end to the culinary assault I suffer on a daily basis, whether it's our department admin bringing me decadent home-baked goods at work, or in this case Dave Penney giving me a massive whoopie pie post ride. It didn't even list how many calories were in it because you wouldn't want to know. I didn't eat it all (yet). (photo Dave P.)
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Rolling quasi-fatty
Finished sealing up the tires this morning and took my new Carver Gnarvester for a ride today. Pretty much flawless out of the box, but I think one tweak will be needed at some point.
The build starts with a Carver Gnarvester alloy frame, which is a "29er+" rig. The "+" means the frame was designed to accommodate an extra wide 29" tire in back, up to 3" wide. That does not make it a fat bike though. Fat bikes can accommodate 3.7" and wider tires. I owned one for two seasons and had to abandon it after experiencing knee pain each time I rode it. To accommodate 3.7" and wider tires, the bottom bracket is widened so the chain and crank arms can clear the tire. This spreads the pedals out away from each other, the so-called Q-factor. I surmised this was behind my knee pain. A plus-bike uses a standard bottom bracket width, so the Q-factor is the same as all my other bikes. Thus it should not bother my knees. The downside is you cannot put a proper fat bike tire in back for maximum float on snow.
The front-end is fair game for experimentation. The frame does not dictate what kind of tire, or wheel for that matter, you put up front. The diameter of a 29"+ tire is nearly 30". Fat bike tires come in 26" rim size. Could I mate a 26" fat tire with a 29"+ tire in back? On the surface, there would seem to be huge mismatch, and that could upset the riding geometry and bike handling greatly. But fat bike tires now come in sizes up to 5". What is the diameter of a 26x5" tire? Almost 30"! So there-in hatched a plan. I'd give up some float in back to save my knees but maximize float up front by going as wide as possible. On paper, it looked great.
Over the past few months I collected parts. This was going to be a budget build. I salvaged a few parts from my previous winter beater bike. No carbon wheels. The difference between carbon and steel or even alloy forks is substantial though, so I did invest in a carbon fork. Plus it was critical that I maximized crown to axle distance to keep geometry where I wanted it. The Salsa Makwa fork could accommodate 26x5" and 29x3" tires, so it had generous crown to axle dimension to clear the big tires. Here's the build spec:
Carver Gnarvester alloy frame with sliding 142mm thru-axle dropouts
Salsa Makwa all-carbon fork, 483mm crown to axle, 142mm thru-axle
Sun Ringle 80mm Mulefut rim laced to 142mm Salsa Fat Conversion hub
Vee Tire Co Snowshoe XL 26" x 4.8" front tire, stud-able
Stan's 52mm Hugo rim laced to Halo 142mm Spin Doctor hub
Vee Tire Co Trax Fatty 29" x 3.0" rear tire
Tires and rims all tubeless-ready and set up with Stan's sealant
Shimano Deore triple crank with Gamut TTr 30t wide-narrow ring
Shimano XT 11-36t 10spd cassette
Shimano XT 10spd shifter
Shimano XT pedals
Shimano XT rear derailleur, medium cage
Bontrager saddle
Cane Creek 10-series integrated headset (no standards here anymore!)
Avid BB7 disk brakes with Avid levers
Thomson Elite post
Thomson Elite stem
Easton EC-70 carbon bar
The built weight came in about the same as my Santa Cruz Tallboy, just under 28 pounds. Surprising really, since there are no suspension components. But when you consider how heavy the front tire alone is, it isn't so surprising (I think I measured 1500g!). The wheel base is about 1" less than my Tallboy. With a light front-end, it should be easy to loft it up on stuff.
The tires set up tubeless flawlessly except for one caveat. When I first mounted the Snowshoe on the Mulefut rim, I did so without sealant as a dry run, literally. It didn't hold air overnight, but no surprise there. So when I went to pop the bead this morning to pour in a few cups of Stan's, I couldn't do it! I don't mean it was hard to break the bead, I mean I tried everything and I could not break the bead in or out of the rim. I even resorted to screwdrivers! No dice. The rim has a locking grove for the bead, and it locks alright. There is no way, ever, that tire on that rim will burp, even at 0.01psi! It also means if I ever flat with that tire on the trail, I'm walking out.
So how did it ride? In a word, great! The geometry felt spot-on. I started with tire pressures a little on the high side, as it is easier to adjust down than up on the trail. I hit my lunch stomping grounds in and around Horse Hill. Not the most techy area, but plenty of root and rock for a shake down test.
I met up with Arvid at his house by chance. He had a low pressure gauge. I tuned the tires down to 6.5psi front and 9.5psi rear. Those are essentially winter riding pressures, keeping in mind the rear is not a fat bike tire. Arvid joined me for the second half of the ride on a loaner fat bike he just got yesterday. Some spirited riding ensued. What impressed me the most was how the giant tires just steam roll over anything. Not the same as suspension, but still pretty sweet. I nearly wrecked myself several times over steering. The tires behave very differently than the 2.35" Racing Ralph's on my Tallboy. The shorter wheelbase added to the grippier cornering. I repeatedly came close to clipping trees on inside of corners. The 9.5psi in the rear 3.0" wide tire was probably a bit too low. I felt it bottom pretty hard a couple times.
On pavement, the reduced pressure tires were painfully sluggish. Pavement is not the intended purpose of this bike though. On the trail, I'd say it rides better than my Superfly hardtail with 80mm front suspension. The head angle is a little more relaxed, and the bigger diameter tire makes smooth work of root mazes.
The one thing I'll have to tweak is chain line. The triple crank places the ring out too far, such that using the biggest cog is marginal. It is very grindy and rough sounding. If I flip the ring to the inside of the spider, it hits the frame. Thus I should invest in a single ring specific crank that puts the ring around a 51mm chain line. That will just clear the frame and tire and give me a little less offset to the big cog.
So now we wait for snow. None in the foreseeable forecast. I'm not eager for snow so I can ride in/on it. I want to skate ski on it. I built up the quasi-fat bike so I can join others on weekend epics and be less disadvantage than struggling with my skinny hardtail on snow machine trails.
The build starts with a Carver Gnarvester alloy frame, which is a "29er+" rig. The "+" means the frame was designed to accommodate an extra wide 29" tire in back, up to 3" wide. That does not make it a fat bike though. Fat bikes can accommodate 3.7" and wider tires. I owned one for two seasons and had to abandon it after experiencing knee pain each time I rode it. To accommodate 3.7" and wider tires, the bottom bracket is widened so the chain and crank arms can clear the tire. This spreads the pedals out away from each other, the so-called Q-factor. I surmised this was behind my knee pain. A plus-bike uses a standard bottom bracket width, so the Q-factor is the same as all my other bikes. Thus it should not bother my knees. The downside is you cannot put a proper fat bike tire in back for maximum float on snow.
The front-end is fair game for experimentation. The frame does not dictate what kind of tire, or wheel for that matter, you put up front. The diameter of a 29"+ tire is nearly 30". Fat bike tires come in 26" rim size. Could I mate a 26" fat tire with a 29"+ tire in back? On the surface, there would seem to be huge mismatch, and that could upset the riding geometry and bike handling greatly. But fat bike tires now come in sizes up to 5". What is the diameter of a 26x5" tire? Almost 30"! So there-in hatched a plan. I'd give up some float in back to save my knees but maximize float up front by going as wide as possible. On paper, it looked great.
Over the past few months I collected parts. This was going to be a budget build. I salvaged a few parts from my previous winter beater bike. No carbon wheels. The difference between carbon and steel or even alloy forks is substantial though, so I did invest in a carbon fork. Plus it was critical that I maximized crown to axle distance to keep geometry where I wanted it. The Salsa Makwa fork could accommodate 26x5" and 29x3" tires, so it had generous crown to axle dimension to clear the big tires. Here's the build spec:
Carver Gnarvester alloy frame with sliding 142mm thru-axle dropouts
Salsa Makwa all-carbon fork, 483mm crown to axle, 142mm thru-axle
Sun Ringle 80mm Mulefut rim laced to 142mm Salsa Fat Conversion hub
Vee Tire Co Snowshoe XL 26" x 4.8" front tire, stud-able
Stan's 52mm Hugo rim laced to Halo 142mm Spin Doctor hub
Vee Tire Co Trax Fatty 29" x 3.0" rear tire
Tires and rims all tubeless-ready and set up with Stan's sealant
Shimano Deore triple crank with Gamut TTr 30t wide-narrow ring
Shimano XT 11-36t 10spd cassette
Shimano XT 10spd shifter
Shimano XT pedals
Shimano XT rear derailleur, medium cage
Bontrager saddle
Cane Creek 10-series integrated headset (no standards here anymore!)
Avid BB7 disk brakes with Avid levers
Thomson Elite post
Thomson Elite stem
Easton EC-70 carbon bar
The built weight came in about the same as my Santa Cruz Tallboy, just under 28 pounds. Surprising really, since there are no suspension components. But when you consider how heavy the front tire alone is, it isn't so surprising (I think I measured 1500g!). The wheel base is about 1" less than my Tallboy. With a light front-end, it should be easy to loft it up on stuff.
The tires set up tubeless flawlessly except for one caveat. When I first mounted the Snowshoe on the Mulefut rim, I did so without sealant as a dry run, literally. It didn't hold air overnight, but no surprise there. So when I went to pop the bead this morning to pour in a few cups of Stan's, I couldn't do it! I don't mean it was hard to break the bead, I mean I tried everything and I could not break the bead in or out of the rim. I even resorted to screwdrivers! No dice. The rim has a locking grove for the bead, and it locks alright. There is no way, ever, that tire on that rim will burp, even at 0.01psi! It also means if I ever flat with that tire on the trail, I'm walking out.
The Gnarvester at the new Wasserman bridge built yesterday
So how did it ride? In a word, great! The geometry felt spot-on. I started with tire pressures a little on the high side, as it is easier to adjust down than up on the trail. I hit my lunch stomping grounds in and around Horse Hill. Not the most techy area, but plenty of root and rock for a shake down test.
I met up with Arvid at his house by chance. He had a low pressure gauge. I tuned the tires down to 6.5psi front and 9.5psi rear. Those are essentially winter riding pressures, keeping in mind the rear is not a fat bike tire. Arvid joined me for the second half of the ride on a loaner fat bike he just got yesterday. Some spirited riding ensued. What impressed me the most was how the giant tires just steam roll over anything. Not the same as suspension, but still pretty sweet. I nearly wrecked myself several times over steering. The tires behave very differently than the 2.35" Racing Ralph's on my Tallboy. The shorter wheelbase added to the grippier cornering. I repeatedly came close to clipping trees on inside of corners. The 9.5psi in the rear 3.0" wide tire was probably a bit too low. I felt it bottom pretty hard a couple times.
Arvid leading on the Twister reroute the Bully was working on when
we came through.
On pavement, the reduced pressure tires were painfully sluggish. Pavement is not the intended purpose of this bike though. On the trail, I'd say it rides better than my Superfly hardtail with 80mm front suspension. The head angle is a little more relaxed, and the bigger diameter tire makes smooth work of root mazes.
The front tire is so massive it almost looks bigger than the rear, but the
rear is slightly bigger outside diameter.
The one thing I'll have to tweak is chain line. The triple crank places the ring out too far, such that using the biggest cog is marginal. It is very grindy and rough sounding. If I flip the ring to the inside of the spider, it hits the frame. Thus I should invest in a single ring specific crank that puts the ring around a 51mm chain line. That will just clear the frame and tire and give me a little less offset to the big cog.
So now we wait for snow. None in the foreseeable forecast. I'm not eager for snow so I can ride in/on it. I want to skate ski on it. I built up the quasi-fat bike so I can join others on weekend epics and be less disadvantage than struggling with my skinny hardtail on snow machine trails.
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