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.