West Quoddy Head Lighthouse

Wednesday, September 19th - - The weather forecast for today was rain and gusty winds. In anticipation, I had gotten the laptop charged up yesterday and had plenty of 'work' to keep me occupied until the storm was over. It began sometime in the early morning hours. Alternating between a drizzle and a downpour. The wind whipped through the campsite and I wondered if I should have taken the tent down last night. But it held up throughout the day. The rain eased up in early afternoon and had stopped by 2 p.m. but it was still very cloudy.



I ventured out and visited the West Quoddy Head Lighthouse on the eastern-most point in the United States. It is reportedly one of the most photographed lighthouses, explained perhaps by the fact that it is easily accessible, unlike many that are located on offshore islands.

Unsupported Handlebar-Mounted Bags

I get a lot of reader questions about front bags, and particularly about whether I've found a good way to carry a bag on the handlebars without using additional support. Short answer: In my experience, it depends on the bike, on how much weight is being carried, and on how the bag is attached to the bars. These factors interact with varied results.






On roadbikes, I have tried carrying unsupported loads on the handlebars using several methods. Bags attached with straps are appealing, because they do not require permanent hardware installation. However, on longer and/or faster rides I find it difficult to keep them from sliding along the handlebars, no matter how tight the straps and how light the load. If the bag slides when I lean on a turn at high speed, it feels distracting and disconcerting, even if it is too light to affect steering.




A few manufacturers have come up with hardware to address this, including the Nitto Bar Sack Rack, the Brooks Cornwall system, andthe Rixen & Kaul KlickFix adapter. The latter I've had a chance to investigate on Pamela Blalock's bikes - who uses it on most of her roadbikes.





TheKlickFix adapter is mounted on the handlebars and remains there when the bag is detached. It is compatible with many bags from different manufacturers, the most popular being the waterproof Ortlieb bags, available in a variety of sizes. This is a very stable system for carrying unsupported weight on the handlebars, and it worked for me with light loads: I felt zero movement. However, when I added my DSLR camera (between 2 and 3lb with lens), I found that I had poor control of the steering. I reported this to the bag's owner, who confirmed that she does not carry that much weight in a handlebar bag on this or on any of her other roadbikes; she uses this system to store lightweight items only.




Of course, it is not clear whether having the weight lower and supported by a rear rack would make any difference on the specific bike I rode. Anecdotal evidence suggests that it very well could. On the other hand, I have seen touring bikes with large, heavily laden bags attached to the bars using this same method, ridden successfully. So the bike does play a role, as, no doubt, does rider sensitivity to high/ unsupported loads.






With upright city bikes - especially heavily built ones - there is generally more tolerance. I have ridden such bikes with all manner of baskets and bags attached to the handlebars without lower support, and for short distances it's been fine if the weight is only a few pounds. I've even managed to attach my Po Campo pannierto the handebars of a Raleigh DL-1, and ride with this setup with 5lb+ of weight in the bag. The bag does slide side to side and affects steering a bit, but since I am not riding fast or cornering aggressively, it doesn't bother me. The heavier the load, the more likely it is to become problematic. And then again, there are those who simply hang heavy shopping bags off their handlebarsand blithely pedal away.




The general consensus is that carrying weight high on the handlebars and without additional lower support is not ideal. A stable system such as the R&K KlickFix adaptor is probably your best bet, but still there are limits to how much weight will feel comfortable.If you have a success story, do share.Personally, in the absence of a front rack, I prefer to carry weight at the rear of the bike.

Red Herring

As the trail grew tricky, I was about to turn around. And that's when I saw it in the distance - a tiny patch of red deep in the thick dark woods. I could not tell how far away it was. No doubt it was just someone's barn, but from a distance it looked mysterious and full of promise. It could be anything. As the sun began its afternoon decline, instead of heading home I made my way toward the red shape flickering in the dappled light.




Back in junior high, we had this scary patch of woods behind the school yard. They said an abandoned shack stood there, where in the '60s a serial killer had taken his victims. Children would go missing from the neighbourhood, and it was not until decades later that their disappearances were solved. Only the killer's remains were found in the shack. An old man by then, he must have died of natural causes. Or did he? Everyone knew there were thingsin the woods where we lived. The kind of things that made ordinary mortal serial killers the least of our worries. This was what we 12 year olds thought about when a ball would fly over the chainlink fence at recess. We dared not go into those woods.




Cycling along the narrow trail, the memory of all this popped into my head, as did the horror flick Don't Look Now - where Donald Sutherland's character pursued what looked like a girl in a red coat only to find something dark and sinister. Did I really want to reach that red object deep in the woods? I laughed to myself, at myself. This was evidence of how unaccustomed I'd become to riding alone. I would not be having these thoughts with one of my cycling buddies around. It was the silence and the lack of any sign of human activity on the trail that lent itself to being shaped by my imagination.




Of course none of us had ever seen the abandoned shack. We knew there was a spot in the chainlink fence where you could lift it up and crawl under. My friend and I had been brave enough to do that - though once we did, we just stood there, too paralised with fear to venture furtherinto the woods. But 12 is an age of dares, pacts, and acts of courage. And one day we decided to find the shack. After school let out, we waited for the yard to clear. Then we ducked under the fence and kept walking before the fear could get the best of us. It was hard to know where to go. The woods were unkept and there were no trails to follow. Eventually we spotted what looked like a narrow overgrown path.It was late September, and the dry leaves made crunching sounds under our shoes. We heard no other sounds, not even birds.




Now too the woods were quiet as I rode through them. Where were the birds, the squirrels, the dog walkers? There was only the soft sound of my tires rolling over roots covered with a blanket of pine needles. I kept the red object in sight, but somehow it was no closer after 15 minutes of cycling. In fact, now it began to seem as if I had passed it. It occurred to me that it wasn't along the main trail, but deeper in the woods. And then I saw a path that seemed to lead toward it. It was overgrown. Covered in roots. Barely a path. But I saw no private property signs, so I turned and followed it.




That day after school we walked for what seemed like forever, though judging by the actual size of the lot it could not have been more than 5 minutes. We gasped when we saw it through the trees: A dirty white wall, surrounded by a heap of bricks where the rest of the structure had once stood. And we gasped once again when we heard footsteps behind it. My friend grabbed my arm, and we began to tremble, not sure whether to run or hide. And then they came out: A middle aged woman in overalls carrying a rake, and a teenage girl, a few years older than us, following her with a large burlap sack. They said hello and warned us about the poison ivy. "It's all over the place, girls. Do you know how to identify the leaves?" They were from the land preservation society. Cleaning up woods, labeling trees. We would have to wait until 8th grade to join. And the white shack? I looked it up years later. It was once a shop selling European auto parts, built in 1982 and abandoned after a fire. It could not have possibly been the hideout of a serial killer in the 1960s.




I knew I was on the right path, because the patch of red grew closer. The path became muddy and difficult to ride through, which only made my journey feel more important. It was damp here. Mosquitos circled and I could see a small bog through the trees to my left. The vegetation was mostly moss, ferns, and poison ivy. The latter slapped my bare legs, but, knowing myself to be resistant to it, I paid no attention. Now and then I dodged low-hanging branches. The mud thickened. Churning through it, I felt like a determined explorer - until finally, there it stood in front of me: A small red tool shed. No more, no less. Seeing it up close - a generic, prefab thing - even my overactive imagination had to acknowledge the complete lack of anything mystical about the structure or the atmosphere surrounding it. I was at the back of someone's property. And now I had to hurry back before dark, cycling through all that mud again.




How funny we are, with our love of setting goals, solving mysteries, inventing worthy destinations - when in actuality what we are after is the experience of the pursuit itself, the goal being just an excuse.

Achielle Oma: Handmade in Belgium

When I learned about Achielle Bicycles from a Belgian friend three years ago, I immediately wanted one - so much so that I contacted the manufacturer and considered buying one direct when I learned there was no American distributor. However shipping a single bike was expensive, and so Achielle did not end up being my first transportaion bicycle. But I remained interested in the manufacturer. Eventually they gained US distribution, but still I never heard of any bike shop that sold them. It was therefore entirely unexpected when I literally bumped into a wine-coloured Achielle Oma at Hudson Urban Bicycles in New York last week. I did not know they sold them, but there it was - the elusive bicycle I'd been admiring from afar all this time, just standing there and waiting for me to try it.




There was also a grayish-cream one in stock, being prepared for theNew Amsterdam Fashion Show.





The owner of HUB had no idea who I was, but knew I had no intention of buying the bike and just wanted to write about it on some blog.The shop was hectic, with everyone running around getting ready for the New Amsterdam Show, and it was almost closing time. Still, he got the bicycle ready for me and was very helpful - much appreciated. Many thanks also to Nona Varnado, who introduced me to HUB and vouched that I was not a bicycle thief. I test rode the Achielle and just barely managed to snap some pictures before the light faded.






So what makes Achielle bicycles such a big deal? Well, it is this: As far as I know they are the only production Dutch bikes that are still handmade locally from the frame up. Even the tubing is produced locally, according to the manufacturer. Does local production mean a bike is better made than had it been outsourced to the Far East? Not necessarily. Quality depends on skill, method and tools, not on a factory's location. But there is something to be said for bicycles that are produced 100% in-house, from frame to paint to assembly. Pashley does it in the UK with English Roadsters and Achielle does it on the continent with Dutch bikes. They are part of the special remaining few and they keep local manufacturing traditions alive.




Achielle has been making bicycles in the Flemish region of Belgium since 1946 and you can read a summary of their history here. The paint is by Dija-Oostcolor - Achielle's parent company. Because pretty much every aspect of production and assembly takes place in-house, a great deal of customisation is possible. But plenty of stock production models are available as well.





The model I rode is the Craighton Pick-Up Oma -a steel loop frame with 28" wheels, body colour fenders, chainguard and large front carrier. This bike was a 57cm frame, 3-speed with coaster brake only, fitted with cream tires, bottle dynamo lighting, double-legged kickstand, leather saddle and grips, and large wicker basket in front.






The Achielle Oma frame has all the features I value when it comes to craftsmanship. It is fully lugged, including the seat cluster, fork crown and even the loop connector. It also has the bolted rear triangle and the track ends in the rear that I prefer on a bike of this style. The frame is utilitarian and the lugwork is simple, there are no flourishes. But everything that I like to be there is there, and the quality of the finish looked excellent, with precise joints and no sloppiness or bulges anywhere along the frame.






On a bicycle like this, I actually prefer to have a modern bottle dynamo to a hub generator, and Achielle has the option of a braze-on "arm" on the fork for this purpose. Both the bottle and the headlight attach there, making it possible to use a front carrier system without obscuring the headlight.






The classically high and swept back Dutch handlebars are near-identical to the set-up on my formerly owned 90s Gazelle.





Although this particular model has a one-sided chainguard and not a full chaincase, models with full chaincases are available also. A tail light is mysteriously absent here, but it is pictured on the Achielle website.




I rode the Oma briefly along the quiet streets of the West Village. It was exceptionally smooth and, by Dutch bike standards, fast. I did not feel that the weight of the front carrier and basket (with my jacket and camera inside) affected handling. However, the lack of front brake was a problem for me and kept me from testing the bike's speed limits to the extent I would have liked. For those considering the bike, a front caliper can be easily retro-fitted and there are options for a hub brake as well, but obviously this could not be done in the short amount of time I spent with the bike. I would love to do a long-term review of this bicycle with better pictures and more nuanced observations.






The Achielle Oma is a classic Dutch bike in every respect, including weight savings not being a priority. It was funny to watch the model who posed with the bicycle at the New Amsterdam Bike Fashion Show "hand" the Achielle to the assistant whose job was to carry it off stage. This big-boned beauty can weigh upward of 45lb, depending on size and what accessories it is fitted with.Like all Dutch bikes, the Achielle Oma was designed to be stored outdoors or in sheds, not carried. And it is certainly durable enough for outdoor storage, as well as suitable as a winter bike.






Priced at $1,450 for the model shown, the Achielle is not inexpensive. But it is handmade in Belgium from scratch, it looks well-constructed and it handles well. The price simply reflects how much it costs to do that, with only modest profits being made by the manufacturer, distributor and retailer. For me, it is worth it. For others, maybe not. It is good to have options. Were I in the market for a Dutch bike today, Achielle would be the one.

Comet Falls Mist on Lupine

Mist-covered blue lupine in Mt. Rainier National Park.

Assateague Island National Seashore

It was as if I had entered a different country. Indeed, I had. Driving south on Route 213 on Sunday morning (October 18th) from Elkton, Maryland, the land became more rural and flat. No more big hills. Traffic was nearly non-existent. A welcome relief from the hustle and bustle driving of the past few days. It was still raining but from the weather reports I was hearing on the radio, I had missed the worst of it. By early afternoon the rain stopped, the clouds were clearing though the sun had yet to make an appearance. There were reports of flooding in the low-lying areas along the eastern shore so I stopped early for the night.

Monday morning brought clear blue skies and sunshine, a glorious morning though cold with temps in the 40s, but at least it wasn't raining! In just a few hours I arrived at the Assateague Island National Seashore south of Ocean City, Maryland. There were areas that were flooded due to all the rain they had received and some of the campsites were affected. I drove around the “loops” in the bayside campgrounds managed by the National Park Service and located the “perfect” spot. It was a relatively large site with a view of the bay and just a small low area, close to the bay, that was filled with water.

That afternoon there were several visitors in the area where I was staying...

Warrants. Surveys. Patents :: Locating the Land of Hans Jacob Brubacher

A wonderful article was published in the January 1986 issue of "Pennsylvania Mennonite Heritage" titled "Hans Jacob Brubacher, Fraktur Artist" which was written by David R. Johnson. I received the article in 1999 from a distant cousin, Margery Bebow, who is related through both the Brubaker and Foster lines. She had received the article from another distant cousin, Ken Fawley, who happens to be married to my 1st cousin Caroline Conrad.



The seven-page article presented what was known about the three generations of men named Hans Jacob Brubacher who lived in what was then Martic Township (now Providence Township) in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania from about 1730 through 1817. Information from Mr. Johnson's research in land and estate records combined with that from Phares Brubaker Gibble's "History and Genealogy of the Brubaker, Brubacher, Brewbaker family in America" provides a good summary of the family, though with at least one error, which may be the subject of a future post.



Hans Jacob Brubaker III is my 5th great-grandfather. His father, Hans Jacob II - the Fraktur Artist, is my 6th great-grandfather. His father, Hans Jacob I, is my 7th great-grandfather.



In his will (dated June 24, 1754 and recorded in Lancaster County Will Book 1 pages 89-90) Hans Jacob Brubacher identified himself as a weaver. Proved on April 17, 1755 the will stated that he owned real estate but did not provide a location or description of the land.



On page 11, the author of the Fraktur Artist article cites several passages from "History of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, with Biographical Sketches of Many of Its Pioneers and Prominent Men", by Franklin Ellis and Samuel Evans (Philadelphia: Evens & Peck, 1883), p. 868:

The elder Hans Jacob acquired 124 acres of land through agents John Herr and Martin Kendig in 1730, "about one mile due southwest from the present village of New Providence, near Big Beaver Creek."

The author continues by saying (emphasis added):

A more garbled account by the same authors gives similar information in a history of the town of New Providence: "A man by the name of Powpather had a large tract of land close by, if not altogether in the limits of the present village. His land extended westward. When he divided his land among his children he changed the name on their deeds to 'Brubaker.'"

Mr. Johnson goes on to say:

The location of the first Jacob Brubacher's land is still uncertain. The most probable tract is the one consisting of 318-plus acres, for which Henry Herr obtained warrant, survey, and patent in 1762 and which was located one mile or more south-southwest of the village of New Providence.

In the footnote for the above statement, citing Patent AA-3-296 and Survey C-76-209, the author states: "As yet no patent, survey, or deed for the elder Jacob Brubacher has surfaced."



Referring to the will and the estate of the elder Hans Jacob, Mr. Johnson states:

"The deceased owned about 150 acres in what was then Martic Township. Because his personal estate was insufficient to pay all expenses, a sale of 60 acres of his land was contemplated, but the family later agreed to sell the whole tract. Jacob Graeff was the highest bidder of £114 at the sale which took place on April 27, 1757, but the court refused to confirm the sale when Thomas Smith, a local resident, appeared and claimed that others present at the bidding did not have time to submit their bids. On December 31, 1757, another sale was held on the premises. This time Henry Herr purchased the farm for £130 5s. and agreed to take responsibility for the widow's bequeathments. When the estate was settled, a final balance was equally divided among the four inheriting children, each of whom received £17 10s. 9d. Henry Herr may have been a close friend or relative; the year before the sale, minor child Abraham Brubacher chose him as guardian."

While looking for county and state resources available online for Pennsylvania in preparation for on-site research in the areas where several ancestors lived, I "discovered" the awesome website of the Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission, particularly the Land Records Portal associated with the State Archives.



Available online through the above mentioned Land Records Portal are digital images of land warrants, surveys, patents, warrantee township maps, and other associated state-level land records from the 1680s to the present day. They DO NOT have the deed books for transactions "transferring land between private citizens that occurred either after or during the patenting process." Those records are maintained at the office of the Recorder of Deeds for the appropriate county.



Some image sets, such as the warrantee township maps, do not include coverage for all counties or even all townships within a county. It does get a little confusing, since there were so many county boundary changes, and it takes time to figure out what you're looking for and then even determining what you are looking at. But it is well worth the time it takes.



Sometimes a warrant was issued but the patent wasn't filed until many years later. Such was the case of the land of Hans Jacob Brubacher II. One warrant for his land was dated July 20, 1748 and another on March 9, 1759 but the patents were not issued until February 23, 1813.



I first looked at the Warrantee Township Maps. There are very few available for the counties where my ancestors settled, but there just happened to be one for Providence Township, Lancaster County. These maps show all original land purchases from the Proprietors or the Commonwealth that were made within the boundaries of present-day townships. The warrants and surveys will generally be found in the county at the time they were issued. Like I said, it does get a bit confusing!







The maps are large pdf files. This one was 7.5mb and I imagine the original was several feet wide. You have to enlarge the map considerably to be able to read the text. Then you look through the names on the map to find your person(s) of interest. The numbers in the upper left of each entry indicate the location on the map. I was looking for Jacob Brubaker but was pleasantly surprised to find the name of Thomas Stoneroad also.



According to the Phares Gibble book (page 76) Jacob Brubaker III married Elizabeth Stoneroad. Records show that the surname was originally Steinweg or Steinweeg. The surnames seem to have been used interchangeably for a period of time in the 1780s through the early 1800s. Apparently "stein" is a German and Norwegian word meaning "stone" or "rock" and "weg" means way or road. Thus Stoneroad is the anglicized equivalent of Steinweg.







Above is a very small portion of the Warrantee Township Map for Providence Township (double-click the image to view a larger version). The area outlined in blue is the location of the land of Jacob Brubaker II, which was inherited by Jacob III. The area outlined in green is the tract of Thomas Stoneroad.



Below is survey C-16-89 for Jacob Brubaker (II). The text reads:

A Drought of a Tract of Land Situate in Martick Township in the County of Lancaster Containing in the whole 107 as & 166 pr & the usual allowance of Six P Cent for the Roads &c 72 as & 76 pr & the usual Allowance Surveyed in pursuance of a warrant dated the 8th of March AD 1759* Granted unto Jacob Brubacker and 35 as & 90 pr and the usual Allowance, being part of a Larger Tract Containing -



Surveyed in pursuance of a Warrant dated the 8th of March AD 1759 Granted unto Thomas Smith &c Surveyed the above tract of Land for Abraham Brubaker the 11th day of January AD 1810.



Jacob Hibshman D.S.

* Brubacker's Warrt is Dated 20 July 1748

Survey C-16-89 for Jacob Brubaker.
I also looked up the survey for Thomas Stoneroad. The surname is unique enough that I've been gathering whatever information I can find on anyone with that surname.








Survey C-201-16 for Thomas Stoneroad.


His tract of land is 42 acres. But what I found very interesting is that his name is associated with the tract labeled A-51-104, which is the survey number. So, yeah, I grabbed that one too.








The original survey A-51-104 is for Jacob Prowpather!


Yes! This is the record that had previously not been found! And I wouldn't have found it either if I hadn't looked at the survey for Thomas Stoneroad. Luckily, my friend Cindy was at home with me at the time and I was able to share this discovery with her, though I'm sure I didn't explain it all very well. It was just nice to be able to talk it over with someone else who "understands" these things!



The document text reads:

Jacob Prowpather 124 acres & the allowance of Six pcent situate on a Branch of Beaver Creek in the County of Lancaster Surveyd to him in right of Martin Kendrick & John Heer [sic: Herr], the 4th of November 1730.



Jno. Taylor.



Warrt. 22 November 1717.

Returned &ca. Novr. 29th 1764 for the use of Martin Funk in pursuance of a Warrt. dated the 26th day of Novr. 1764 now Situate in Martick Township in the County of Lancaster.

No Warrant or Patent was found for this land in Lancaster County or Chester County in the name of Jacob Prowpather or Jacob Brubaker or other variations of the surname. (Lancaster County was a part of Chester County until 1729.) I didn't really expect to find either record since the tract was "in right of" Kendrick and Heer.



Records at the county level will have to be checked to find the deeds for when Jacob sold the land and for Thomas Stoneroad's purchase of the land.







Looking at the Warrantee map once again, we see that the land identified as survey A-51-104 (outlined in red) belonged to Martin Funk and is the same property originally owned by Jacob Prowpather, aka Jacob Brubaker (the 1st) from 1730 until his death in 1755. The land that Thomas Stoneroad obtained in 1804 is outlined in green, and that of Jacob II (and III), which they owned from 1748 to about 1817, is outlined in blue.



In his article, David R. Johnson included two diagrams of the property of Jacob II, one of which placed the property in a present-day (1986) map. Using his drawings and Google Maps, I was able to locate the Brubaker tracts on a road map and on a satellite view.











That dark line running from the left-center and curving down the lower-right of the image is the Enola Low Grade Trail, which opened last year. I may just have to check that out (amongst other things) on my way through Pennsylvania this coming week!



I haven't gotten through the entire list of Pennsylvania ancestors yet, but I have found warrants, surveys, and patents for the lands of 12 of them! All in all, the last couple of days have been very productive...

Coq au Vin - Finished

Coq au Vin, originally uploaded by ParsecTraveller.

Here's the completed coq au vin, with pearl onions, mushrooms, and little pieces of bacon. The chicken became unbelievably tender, and so did the pearl onions. Coq au vin is fairly easy to make, and a great dish for a cold winter night.

Death Valley :: Ubehebe Crater

Wednesday, March 7th - - After stopping at Zabriske Point and the visitors center I drove the 60 miles or so to the north end of the park. On my last visit the road was under construction with long delays and I didn't have the patience to deal with it. I spent the night at Mesquite Spring Campground, which as rustic as it is, is one of the nicer campgrounds in the park – the campgrounds at Texas Spring, Sunset, and Stovepipe Wells are little more than parking lots with the campers lined up side by side.



Thursday, March 8th - - I was still quite tired from the drive on Tuesday and slowly got myself up and around this morning. Since I had never been in this area of the park before I took a look at the Visitor Guide. I knew Scotty's Castle was only a few miles away but wasn't aware that the Ubehebe Crater was even closer. (Ubehebe is pronounced u-bee hee-bee.)



The crater was formed about 2,000 years ago when hot, molten rock turned groundwater into steam. The intense steam pressure built until the superheated combination of steam and rock exploded. The explosion spewed shattered rock over a six-square-mile area, in some places to depths of 150 feet. Ubehebe is the largest of many explosion craters in the area – it is a half mile across and about 600 feet deep.





Several trails lead into the floor of the crater. I didn't even attempt to go down. You can't see them in the photo above, but there are two people down there.





See, there they are... barely visible at full zoom!

A trail also follows the crater rim, how long it is I don't know. I did follow the path up to another smaller crater, which according to a sign was half a mile distant.





A panoramic view of Ubehebe Crater. The parking lot is down that path on the left side of the crater, about half way into the picture. Be sure to double-click on the photo for a larger version, then click again when it opens – it is an incredible landscape.

Monday Mailbox: Cycling, Clothing and Skin Sensitivity

When discussing athletic cycling clothing, or even dressing for the bike in the context of utility cycling, I will occasionally mention being sensitive to certain fabrics. Because of this I get lots of questions from readers who are in the same predicament. There are those who find themselves unable to wear cycling apparel typically available in bike shops. There are also those who find that the fabric in their ordinary, everyday clothing - which was fine for driving and walking in - begins to cause problems once they start getting around by bike. Having had both experiences, here is my perspective after some years of cycling.




Firstly we all mean something different by "sensitive." Here is what I mean by it: When I wear certain items of clothing, my skin gets easily and dramatically irritated - to the point of rashes, abrasions or even lesions forming in the course of a single bike ride - in areas where the fabric contacts my skin. This does not appear to be a chafing issue, but more like a chemical burn or allergy type of reaction.




After nearly 5 years, I still cannot pinpoint precisely what causes it in my case. In the beginning, I believed it was "artificial fabrics" on the whole, so I tried to avoid them and wore only natural fabrics (wool, silk, etc.). But over time I learned that it is not a clearcut artificial vs natural fabrics issue. For example, I now know that I can usually wear lycra and spandex directly against my skin without any problems. My earlier assumption that I could not wear lycra was based on the fact that much of the cycling clothing casually referred to as "lycra" is in fact either partly or entirely polyester. It was the polyester I was sensitive to. This theory held true for a while, as I'd try different articles of polyester clothing and inevitably develop rashes. Even those wool/poly blends I usually cannot wear directly against my skin. Then again, one time I wore a jersey that was 100% polyester to which I had no sensitivity, even after a 60 mile ridein the summer heat and humidity.




Point being, these things can be tricky to figure out, so don't jump to conclusions. If you are sensitive to an article of clothing, it could be the fabric, but it could also be the dye, or some surface treatment used on the fibers, or some other factor entirely, or a combination of everything - including how these things interact with your unique body chemistry, and in particular, sweat (the latter would also explain why you might be entirely fine with certain fabrics when sitting around at the office or walking to and from the car, but not once you start pedaling and working up a bit of a sweat).




So, what do you do if you have skin sensitivity to cycling clothing? My first suggestion would be to eliminate chafing as the culprit. If your clothing is either too loose or too tight, this could cause abrasions from chafing that might be mistaken for skin sensitivity - I have seen it lots of times with local cyclists.




Once you are certain chafing is not the issue, pay attention to the clothing labels and see whether an obvious pattern emerges. Experimenting with fabrics is expensive, but many shops' return policies now are amenable to exchanges after items have been worn. And to determine whether it is the dye or surface treatment you are sensitive to, try washing the garment before wearing it again and see what happens. I recently tried some cycling-specific trousers that gave me a rash when I first wore them, but no longer caused that reaction after I put them through the wash a couple of times based on a friend's suggestion.And finally, for what it's worth, I think avoiding artificial fabrics remains a valid tactic.




Some of us can wear anything on the bike and don't see what the problem is. Others are frustrated by wasting money on clothing that irritates. Hopefully over time we figure out what works for us and what doesn't. In the meantime, there is always the second hand market - and trading clothing with friends!

Wild Locast Tree

It was very dry in the mountains so I was surprised to see so many wild flowers blooming. The wild locast trees were beautiful with pale pink to a light purple in color blossoms. There were wild roses, iris, and lupines as well as many others that I couldn't name and were so tiny I couldn't get a decent photo of.

A Noble Life :: A Farmer's Wife

Lellah Golden "Goldie" (Wiseman) Quine, daughter of Samuel and Amanda (Alexander) Wiseman, was born on May 8, 1890 in Kosciusko County, Indiana. She eloped with Clarence Quine and they were married on September 19, 1914 in Centreville, Michigan.

They became the parents of four daughters, two of whom are still living. Clarence and Goldie lived on their 80 acre farm three miles east of Warsaw, Indiana until the early 1940s. During World War II Goldie and Clarence both worked at the Kingsbury Ordinance Plant in Laporte County, Indiana.

Goldie passed away on August 6, 1973 and is buried in Oakwood Cemetery, Warsaw, Indiana. The photo is not dated. It is from my Dad's collection. Goldie was a sister of my grandfather, Charles Wilson Wiseman.

Contributed to the 12th Edition of Smile For The Camera.

SPD Pedals and Platform Support

When it comes to SPD-style clipless pedals, there is some discussion about the benefits of models with integrated platforms versus without. For example, here is an email I received from a reader last week:

...I see in your photos that you use both the Crank Brothers Eggbeaters and Candy pedals. Which do you recommend for a beginner? My boyfriend likes Shimano A-520 pedals because of the extra platform support. His thought is that the Candys provide the same level of support, but not the Eggbeaters. Do you agree?

To answer this question, let me backtrack a bit. The Eggbeater and Candy pedals fromCrank Brothersare identical, except that the Candys (right) have a flat platform built around the bindings and the Eggbeaters (left) do not. When choosing pedals, I heard several arguments in favour of the Candys, including that the platform offers extra foot support, that as a beginner I would have an easier time clipping into a larger pedal, and that the platforms would allow me to ride in regular shoes.



I have now ridden with Candys on my own roadbike for the past 9 months. Over that time I have also borrowed friends' bikes with Eggbeaters (including a 100K ride).In the very beginning, the Candys were indeed easier for meto clip into. However, this advantage was short-lived andjust weeks later I already had no problem using Eggbeaters and could not distinguish between them. I can also confirm that the Candys are much easier to ride in street shoes, on the rare occasions I find myself doing this on a roadbike. But as far as foot support, I feel absolutely no difference between the two models. I thought that I would, but I don't.



The Eggbeaters have their own advantages. The lack of platforms makes them considerably lighter. They offer more points of entry. And they are easier to clean. Overall, I think that I prefer them, although really I am fine with either.



While not the same as the Crankbrothers system, you could draw parallels to this comparison with Shimano SPDs. There are pedals that consist of bindings alone, and those that incorporate a platform. Some claim the platform provides additional foot support and allows for more power to be transferred, making it similar to a road pedal. Others argue that this is not the case, as the platform sits too far below the binding to provide significant support. I have no comment on the mechanics of this at large, but can only say that with my style of riding, and my specific pedal and shoe combination, I cannot feel the difference. As a beginner, I would suggesttrying lots of pedals and figuring out what feels better to you.

Achingly Upright

Longer commutes over the past few months have given me the opportunity to ride a variety of upright bikes over varying distances. And while achieving a particular fit is less important to me on upright bikes than it is on roadbikes, I still have preferences. For instance, my ideal handlebar height is on the low side. I began to notice that fairly early on, lowering the bars on my city bikes further with each passing year.I'd assumed this growing preference had to do with performance: That maybe as I picked up handling skills and began to ride faster, lower handlebars just made more sense. And in part that's probably true. But lately I've realised that it's also a matter of physical comfort.



Riding several bikes with the bars set higher than I prefer, I notice that my back starts to hurt after some miles. It's a distinct kind of dull, gnawing pain, somewhere around the shoulder blade area. On bikes where the bars are set lower, I don't experience the pain. And having moved the handlebars on one of the "painful" bikes down an inch, the pain disappeared. I've tried this a few times now over the past couple of months with the same result: When the bars are too high, my back aches.



The downside to having a city bike set up the way I like, is that other women who try it usually tell me the handlebars feel too low.In the end, it's about finding our personal optimal position. And too upright can be just as achy as too leaned forward.

The Art of Exuberant Subtlety

Squinting in the harsh mid-day light and holding my breath, I rolled this rare machine I had been entrusted with across the grassy clearing.I leaned it against a tree. I arranged it amidst some flowers. Ipositioned it this way and that, in the sunshine and in shadow. With the camera to my eye, I crouched, I kneeled, I loomed, I stepped back. And yet, the bicycle refused to draw attention to itself. It was as if in his quest to achieve harmony - a harmony of proportion, colour and form - the builder had gone one step too far. So harmonious was this bicycle, so perfectly at home in these woods on this beautiful spring day, that it was in fact part of the scenery.






To appreciate a JP Weigle, one must appreciate this level of subtlety. There is no Weigle website. Just some flickr pictures, minimal publicity, word of mouth, and one of the longest wait lists in the business. Because tothose in the know, the builder's name is synonymous with randonneuring machines in the classic French tradition, made to the highest standards.Today this style of bike is not as rare - and, by extension, not as striking - as it was just a few years ago. There are fewer heated debates about its low trail geometry and 650B tires. There are also fewer oohs and aahs about its integrated fenders, racks, lighting, handlebar bags and other iconic features. But a Weigle machine is not so much about these things in themselves, as it is about how they are done. They say thatWeigle is the master of the thinned lug, of the French-curve fork blade, of the sculptural, minimalist front rack, of the near-invisible internal wiring,of the perfectly installed fenders. Hardly anyone uses the word "beautiful" to describe his work, although it is assumed. The words used are: meticulous, impeccable, flawless.It is by design that no part of a Weigle calls attention to itself.






In his ruralConnecticutworkshop, JP (Peter) Weigle has a presence that is as quietly compelling as one of his creations. Dressed in gray on gray and of serene disposition, he is easy to miss in a room full of colourful jerseys and animated conversation."But where is Peter?" visitors ask. Eventually he is spotted, in a corner, speaking in a muted yet impassioned tone as he points to some tiny detail on either his own frame or a vintage one in his custody. On my visit I was treated to a Jo Routens, stripped of paint, its brazed joints exposed to be studied. And beside it was the yet-unpainted bike I was trying to photograph now - nearly ready.






The future owner, Elton (second from the left), left the paint colour up to Peter, confident that whatever the builder chose would be right for the bike.






The racing green frame with nickel-plated fork blades and stays is a congruent combination of darks and lights, of matte and reflective surfaces.






The embellishments - such as the lug cutouts filled with tiny bursts of red and the golden box lining - are noticeable only on close inspection, but are so numerous and discreet that one could spend hours looking over the bike and still miss some.






The lugs are thinned out to such an extent, that they are almost flush with the tubes. It is difficult to get their intricate shorelines to show up on camera. No doubt it is to highlight this aspect of the construction that lug outlining has been omitted.






In addition to the frame and fork, Peter made the canti-mount front rack






which features a left-side light mount extension






and sits low and stable on the bike, the platform secured to the front fender.






He also made the rear rack,






which attaches both at the dropouts and at the canti bosses.






The custom cable hanger and tail light are also his own work, as is the reworked ("Special OH-HEC") pump - poorly pictured here, but lovely.






The internally routed dynamo-powered lighting was set up in collaboration with AT Électricalités - aka "Somervillain," who now moonlights as a bike electrician of renown skill. He explains how he set up the lighting step by step here. Examining the bike in person, the entry and exit points of the wiring are extremely difficult to spot even if you know where they are.






The rest of the build the owner put together himself. It included a Grand Bois stem and decaleur,






modern Rene Herse crankset,






Shimano Dura Ace rear derailleur and cassette,








9-speed Campagnolo ergo shifters,





vintage Mafac brakes






Handbuilt wheels around Pacenti rims, with a Chris King hub in the rear and a Schmidt SON dynamo hub in the front, and of course Grand Bois Hetre (extra leger!) 650Bx42mm tires,






Gilles Berthoud touring saddle,






Berthoud handlebar bag,






and long coverage Honjo fenders, which Peter Weigle installed using his own special method prior to Elton doing the rest of the build.





The elegant Nitto bottle cages are a nice complement to the build,






as are the two-tone Crankbrothers pedals and Wippermann chain.






Even after such a long description, there are many details I've missed. I need a clearer background and softer lighting to really do justice to it all. The curve of the brake bridge, the hidden lug cutouts, the pump peg, the delicate little braze-ons... this is a bike whose beauty "unfolds" the more closely you look at it. But standing there in a patch of woods, it makes you think about cycling rather than its own self. And Elton surely has plans to do some brevets on this beautiful machine this season. In the meantime he has been commuting on it to work.






Living in New England, I've been lucky enough to encounter a few Weigle bikes "in the wild" (for example, this one), made over the span of several decades. Like a number of other well known American builders, Peter Weigle got his start at Witcomb Cycles in London, UK in the early 1970s. And while today he is best known for his low trail randonneuring machines with 650B wheels, he did not begin working on such designs until 2005-2006. Before then there were Weigle racing bikes, mountain bikes, touring bikes - all showing the fashions of the times, yet also his distinct brand of elaborately subtle detail. I feel fortunate to have seen some of these bicycles and spoken to their owners.




Peter Weigle's small workshop in the woods is neat and tidy when visitors appear. The builder's friends tease that he never allows anyone to watch him work, his technique being top secret. Whatever the secret is, the results continue to entice bicycle lovers to dream of his machines, whether admiring them from afar or putting their names on the years-long wait list.