Their Magnificent Old Home

Among the family photographs recently shared with me by Roger Waller is the one below, which is the home built about 1874 by Jonathan S. Dunfee. The house (located in section 17 of Jefferson Township, Whitley County, Indiana) is still standing. When I asked for permission to use the photo of Jonathan in the post A Dunfee Duo, Roger not only answered in the affirmative but went on to say "Please put the photo from 1874 with the house and family on your site as well, I would really like people to be able to see it." So this post is dedicated to Roger, and to all other family researchers who willingly and happily share the past with us all. Thank You.







I drove out there last Sunday afternoon and when I saw the house, I realized that the above photo was reversed left-to-right. As always, you can double-click on the images to view a larger version. It's worth the extra clicks as the detail is quite good in the areas that are sharp.








So I "flipped" the image for comparison to the present-day views.






This shot was taken from across a field. The two pine trees in front of the house prevented the taking of a straight-on view. (I didn't want to go into the yard and the camera doesn't have an extremely wide angle lens anyway.)








A view of the house from the side.


On my visit to see Cal and Ardilla on Monday (mentioned in this post), Cal told me that one of Jonathan's granddaughters "from California" had come to the area back in the 1960s and had stopped at this house. She was able to go inside and visit with the owners. She apparently promised to send them a copy of the old photo above and wrote a letter to them in October of 1967. I'm not clear on how Cal got a copy of the letter - he stated that the granddaughter who visited did not contact any members of the Dunfee family that were living in the area at the time.



The author of the letter, Agnes Dunfee Deebel, was the third of four children born to Louis Weldon and Mary Lucretia (Cass) Dunfee who were married November 6, 1890 in Noble County, Indiana. About 1909 Louis and Mary moved with their four children to Calgary, Alberta, Canada where they lived for a few years. By 1920 the family was living in Long Beach, California. Agnes is the grandmother of my correspondent, Roger Waller, who provided me with the old photo.



Below is a transcription of the photocopy of the letter (paragraph breaks and text within square brackets has been added by me):

"Dear Mrs. Murbach - At last, I obtained the 92 yr old tintype, naturally somewhat worn, and here is the print I promised you, of the original house you now own. (The tintype was reversed, left to right, so you will make that correction, please.) The house was built in 1874, by my grandfather, Johnathan Dunfee, standing by front gate. He was helped by my father, Louis Dunfee, 10 yrs old, the boy standing by the front gate.



"The lady on the porch, standing, was my grand mother, Mary Dunfee. The man sitting on the porch, my uncle David Dunfee. The girls sitting [on the porch], my aunts Wilhemina, Martha, Emily & Althea & the man standing to the left, my uncle Clinton, who used to own the property to your north.



"My father bought the 80 acres where you live when he was 26, & brought my mother Mary Lucretia Cass, 22, there as a bride. Their 4 children, Florence, Helen, myself and Ruskin, were all born in this house - right in the north west corner of your present kitchen. The smaller building directly behind your house was built 70 yrs ago, as a "summer kitchen" - (no air conditioning then).



"The roof [three words, illegible] slate, alternating bands of light grey & rose, & was considered very handsome. The shutters were dark green - and the house always white. The Catalpa trees by your front gate were planted by my father in 1900 - and the maples along your lane by my mother in 1898. Thank you for the picture you gave me, and for letting me 'tour' your home. Agnes Dunfee Deebel Oct 24 - 67"

Do you think the man older man standing by the gate is 48 years old or 20?


I do take issue with Mrs. Deebel's statement that it is her grandfather, Jonathan Dunfee, standing by the gate with the boy. My guess would be that it is her brother David who is standing by the gate with Louis and that her grandfather Jonathan is the man in the chair on the porch (in the upper left corner of the cropped portion of the photo above). If the house was built in 1874, Jonathan would have been 48 years old at the time (he was born in 1826). The fellow standing by the gate with the boy appears younger to me. Her brother David would have been 20 years of age in 1874, which I think "fits" a little better.



Jonathan Smith Dunfee was the son of James and Sophia (Hazlett) Dunfee and was born June 9, 1826 probably in Adams County, Pennsylvania. At age 5, he moved to Wayne County, Ohio with his parents and siblings. At the age of 20 "he went to carpentering for two years, and the following three acted as overseer for his widowed sister's farm in Holmes County, Ohio." He married Mary Ann Quick on October 19, 1848 in Holmes County, Ohio. He was 22 years old and she was 20.



On May 26, 1850 he purchased 80 acres of land for $720 from Silvester Alexander. It was located in the northwest half of the northwest quarter of section 17 (NW 1/2 NW 1/4 S17) in Jefferson Township, Whitley County, Indiana. This is the same parcel of land upon which he would later build the home shown in the photos above.



Two of his brothers, William Hamilton Dunfee (my 3rd great grandfather) and James Henry Dunfee, had come to Whitley County several years earlier. Other family members (his brother George, sister Catherine Tryon, and sister Sophia McNabb) had located in neighboring Noble and DeKalb counties prior to 1850. Another sister, Mary Bonnett Lovett would remain in Ohio (Holmes County) while his parents James and Sophia and two other sisters, Lucy and Sarah, would arrive in Whitley County within a few years.



Jonathan would purchase other lands, at one time owning over 400 acres in Whitley County. About 1891-1892 he and his wife moved to a home on North Chauncey Street in Columbia City where he passed away on April 22, 1900. (Mary's obituary published November 15, 1907 states that they moved to Columbia City "about 16 years ago" which, according to Agnes, is about the time that their son Louis bought the farm house.) Census records show Jonathan's occupation was that of a farmer. Apparently he was rather successful at it too. His biography published in the 1882 history of Whitley County, stated that "his farm is in a high state of cultivation and supplied with excellent buildings, and the signs of prosperity and happiness are all about him."



Jonathan's wife, Mary Ann Quick, was the daughter of David and Margaret (Oliver) Quick. She was born December 4, 1827 in Holmes County, Ohio and died at her home on North Chauncey Street in Columbia City on November 8, 1907.



Jonathan and Mary Ann (Quick) Dunfee were the parents of 7 children, all of whom remained in northeast Indiana except Louis:

1. Justice Clinton (August 22, 1849 - February 26, 1927)


2. Margaret Willimina (November 26, 1852 - March 22, 1941)


3. David J. (October 19, 1854 - August 12, 1892)


4. Martha Etta (May 21, 1857 - May 17, 1945)


5. Emily Almeda (February 28, 1859 - June 6, 1933)


6. Althea Mary (March 26, 1861 - November 22, 1903)


7. Louis Weldon (September 12, 1864 - December 14, 1947)

For more information on the Dunfee family, see the Index to Posts, which is a compilation of all the posts that have been published here at kinexxions on the family.

Morning Glory Peek-A-Boo

Millbrook: Westward Ha! (5.7) & Cruise Control (5.9)

(Photo: Just above the final crux of Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Millbrook is a cliff with a fearsome reputation.




Unlike the other large cliffs at the Gunks, Millbrook has no easy access. A hike of at least three miles is required to approach the cliff. Once there, you have to rap in from above to get to the climbs. All of the climbs start from a narrow, sloping shelf popularly known as the "Death Ledge." Above this Death Ledge is a rotten band of rock; many of the climbing routes negotiate crumbly, loose territory for the first thirty to forty feet. And even if you survive the rotten band, you aren't out of the woods. The climbs at Millbrook are steep, difficult, and often poorly protected. 5.11 X is a common rating at Millbrook.




This is a serious cliff. You need to have a good idea of your limits before you go there. When you climb at Millbrook, you will likely be climbing alone. If something goes wrong, help is going to be hard to come by.




Does this sound like fun to you?




And yet the cliff has very attractive qualities as well. For starters, it is the highest, whitest, most impressive cliff at the Gunks. You might not notice it so much from New Paltz but if you spend any time in the area to the south, in Gardiner, for example, you can't help but feel its presence. We've rented a house on Bruynswick Road, which parallels the ridge, and every time I've driven down to this house from the north, following the road past all the major cliffs, I've been struck by how Millbrook looms over the area in the most appealing and inviting way. It is a beautiful, solemn place.




And there are great climbs at Millbrook. Not just hard man test-pieces (of which there are many), but also great moderates (or so I've been told). The introductory Millbrook route, right at the center of the cliff (next to the rappel tree), is Westward Ha!, a climb some consider to be the best 5.7 in the Gunks. Just to the right of Westward Ha! is a classic 5.9 called Cruise Control. Another reputed classic 5.9, Realm of the Fifth Class Climber, is down at the southern end of the cliff. And there are more, a handful of 5.7 to 5.9 climbs that I hear are well-protected and well worth doing, along with several world-class 5.10's and 5.11's that have reasonable pro.




Above all, Millbrook offers solitude, mystery, and the unknown, things which are in short supply at the other major cliffs at the Gunks. Millbrook provides a chance to get away from the same crowded routes you did yesterday and to step into what feels like a real alpine adventure.




Until this past weekend I'd never been climbing at Millbrook. I've been really wanting to go lately, intrigued by Christian Fracchia's website The White Cliff, which has wonderfully detailed topo photos of the whole cliff, along with updated route information that is more precise than what you'll find in any of the official guidebooks. I contacted Chris when I started thinking about climbing at Millbrook, and he gave me great advice about potential routes to climb and how best to reach them.




This past Sunday seemed like a good day to go. Clear skies and cool temperatures made for perfect conditions for hiking out to the cliff. Gail was willing to troop out there with me. I hoped we could knock off the two most obvious candidates, Westward Ha! (5.7) and Cruise Control (5.9), and still have time to maybe hit another moderate like The High Traverse (5.8 with the variation finish) or Realm of the Fifth Class Climber (5.9), mentioned above.









(Photo: On the trail to Millbrook, with Skytop visible in the distance.)




Dick Williams suggests in his guidebook that the hike out to Millbrook will take about an hour. For us the trip was uneventful but it took longer than that. We were slowed a bit by a lot of wetness on the trail, which I guess was a remnant of some heavy rain that fell a few nights before. The hike is perfectly pleasant, and I bet it is quite beautiful in late May/early June when the mountain laurel is in bloom.









(Photo: The rap tree is dead, Fred! What do we do now?)




Once we dead-ended into the Millbrook Mountain Trail and followed it to the cliff's edge, we had no trouble winding our way down to find the traditional rappel tree atop Westward Ha! Unfortunately, however, this tree is 100 percent deceased, as in dead, i.e. finished. This was a shock to us because everyone apparently still uses the dead tree! I don't know how long it has been this way but man, it is over and has been for a while. The tree is a black hulk. We briefly considered using it anyway, since it is such a huge tree, and it is unlikely to fail under body weight for quite a while. But it gave me the willies. I did not feel good about the idea of using it.




Looking around, we saw other rappel options, so it was easy for us not to use the dead tree. We found two trees that were decent-sized and very much alive, about 30 or 40 feet left (south) of the Westward Ha! rappel. These trees are also maybe 20 or 30 feet higher than the dead tree, but I was confident my 60 meter rope would still reach the Death Ledge, since I knew the rap from the dead tree was only 150-160 feet to the ledge.









(Photo: Rapping over the steepness that is Millbrook.)




I leaned out over the lip from our improvised rappel station to check the rap; it appeared to be a sheer drop to the ledge. It did not seem that there were any obstacles and I was more or less certain that the rope would reach. I also felt entirely sure that we would have no trouble climbing a 5.7 route to get off of the cliff. We would not be trapped down there. Still, I felt very nervous. It took a leap of faith to back my ass off the cliff and descend into the unknown. But this whole adventure was my idea, so I had to be the first one to go. I set up my rappel and off I went.









(Photo: The obvious corner of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




Once we both got down without incident, it was very easy to find the prominent corner ascended by Westward Ha! (5.7). And although the Death Ledge wasn't huge, the shelf was flat and wide enough at this part of the cliff for us to move around without fear that we were about to slip off of it and tumble to the talus some 70 or 80 feet below. (Nevertheless we stayed anchored while on the ledge.)









(Photo: Getting started on Westward Ha! (5.7).)




I had read that you could take any of several independent little lines up the first forty feet of the route to reach the prominent corner system. I could see that the path on the left looked the easiest, ascending blocky flakes all the way to the corner. But I guessed that this collection of flakes also contained a bunch of loose crap, giving this part of the route its reputation for bad rock. So I decided to go to the right, up a line that appeared to have obvious holds and solid rock, leading to a leftward traverse to the big corner.









(Photo: Gail coming up the right-hand start to Westward Ha!, which has nice climbing, good rock, and pretty good pro.)




I thought this part of the route had decent climbing, though the final moves left to the ledge seemed a bit thin to me for 5.7 and required the use of a fragile crimper hold. If this crimp breaks off, I think this start will be much harder than 5.7 in the future. Once I reached the tree at the base of the big corner I decided to stop and belay Gail from there. The short first pitch would cut down on drag and allow us to do the whole rest of the climb in one pitch. Gail agreed that the right hand start was a little stiff for 5.7.









(Photo: In the final moves up the pretty white face at the top of Westward Ha! (5.7).)




We found the rest of Westward Ha! to be superb. The corner is sustained, with one fine move after another. A crack goes up the back of the corner for most of the way, so pro is frequently available, and you can jam if you wish, although there are plenty of edges so it isn't necessary.




From the top of the corner you emerge at the crux of the route, thin moves up an attractive white face. Again the pro is there and the moves are great, and then before you know it you're at the top.




Westward Ha! is a very very nice 5.7. I would not call it the best 5.7 in the Gunks, because to me it lacks the mind-blowing standout moments that you'll find on the very best climbs, like, say, Thin Slabs Direct or CCK. Westward Ha! doesn't really have any one outstanding moment or section, though the whole thing is quite good. I enjoyed it immensely and thought it was well worth the walk. And I would do it again the same way, with the short pitch at the bottom, followed by a longer pitch with all of the great climbing in it.




Back on top of the cliff, it was already late for lunch. We had a bite and then rapped back down to check out Cruise Control (5.9). Like Westward Ha!, this climb is easy to find. If you continue walking right (north) just a short distance from Westward Ha!, maybe thirty feet or so, stepping over a boulder that is resting against the cliff face, you will quickly come to a spot below a small, left-facing corner in orange rock that leads up to a groove/shallow open book. The open book then trends up and right to a roof. This is Cruise Control.




It looked good to me. I had wondered earlier in the day if, when push came to shove, I would feel up to a 5.9 on Millbrook. Before we started Westward Ha!, I was so nervous, worrying about how the rock would feel, and about whether we were really equipped to deal with the climbing at this cliff. I did not want us to exceed our limits. But once we completed Westward Ha! these concerns melted away. The rock felt fine. The climbing was familiar. I knew I could handle leading a Gunks 5.9, and Cruise Control was supposed to be on the easy side of the grade. This was going to be no problem.




The first pitch was a great pleasure. The moves up the initial corner are nice, and the rock quality through the rotten band seemed fine to me. I can't remember any terrible looseness. Then the crux climbing comes at a technical sequence up the shallow open book. The left side of the book forms a beautiful layback flake with solid pro. By the time I was through this sequence I was already telling Gail how wonderful the pitch was, and I hadn't even reached the roof.




The overhang adds another cool dimension to the pitch. It is a solid 5.8+/5.9- affair, again with great gear. After you pull over it the pitch romps up easy territory to a pedestal where there are good cracks for a gear anchor. (You could also continue to the next shelf.)









(Photo: Pulling over the roof on pitch one of Cruise Control (5.9).)




As I prepared for pitch two, I thought the real business of the climb was over. The second pitch is 5.8, and I assumed the groove and roof on pitch one were the main attractions of the climb. I didn't expect much out of the second pitch.




Boy was I wrong. The second pitch of Cruise Control is amazing.




It starts up the obvious right-facing corner that rises above the belay ledge. But after 20 or 30 feet you need to traverse around the corner to the left and onto the face of the cliff. I placed a good nut while still in the corner but felt obligated to sling it really long to avoid the prospect of horrendous drag.




Peering around the corner, I could see good little footholds. But I was blind as to the hands, and the face above looked blank. Would there be any placements out there? Dick Williams rates this pitch as 5.8 G. That would seem to indicate that there must be pro out there, right?




Making the commitment and stepping out onto the face was spectacular. I found myself on a gorgeous white billboard beneath a small ceiling. The rock was solid and I could see the path up and left. The climbing here was easier than 5.8.




But there wasn't any pro. I spied a wide horizontal at the top of the billboard, at the overlap. I hoped my largest cam, a big blue Camalot, would fit. I moved up, easy does it, one exquisite move and then another. Staying focused. By the time I reached the overlap I was surely well into R-rated territory. A fall at that point would have been a long, sideways, swinging affair.




I tried to place the blue Camalot. It was tipped-out and biting into mud in the crack. Not good at all.




What to do? Maybe the blue cam would fit better if I moved it further to the left, off-line?




Looking around, I realized I'd fallen victim to tunnel vision. There was a vertical crack system just above me running upward, the continuation of the route. But in my fixation on the wide horizontal crack I hadn't even seen it. I could get a great cam or nut right over my head. I threw a yellow Alien in the vertical crack and exhaled.




Everything was going to be fine.









(Photo: Topping out on Cruise Control (5.9). Photo by Christian Fracchia.)




Just then, as I breathed a sigh of relief and looked upward, I saw a human head peek out from the top of the cliff.




"Chris, is that you?"




It was! I had told Fracchia I was headed out to Millbrook and he showed up (with his sheepdog) to see how I liked it and to snap a few photos.




While he got set up to shoot I climbed through the physical crux of the pitch, up the fun crack system through another overlap and on to the top. As I finished the climb Chris got the nice photos you see here. Then we hung out and chatted while Gail climbed the pitch. When she topped out she too was thrilled with the awesomeness of the second pitch of Cruise Control.




I think Cruise Control is one of the best moderate climbs in the Gunks. The first pitch is great, and the second is stupendous. If you are cool with the 5.9 climbing on pitch one then the runout on pitch two through easier territory shouldn't bother you too much. But I do think Dick's 5.8 G rating for the second pitch is misleading. It should be something like 5.8 G (5.6+ R).




When we finished Cruise Control it was already mid-afternoon and we figured that including time spent packing up and walking, it would be at least another hour and a half before we'd reach the car. We thought about trying to do one more pitch but decided to call it a day instead. This turned out to be the right call, as I was really drooping by the time we finished the hike back to civilization. After four pitches of climbing and three hours of hiking I was exhausted. Gail was still hiking strong. I could barely keep up with her. I need to toughen up, I think.




I was so satisfied with the climbing we did at Millbrook. Getting to the cliff may be inconvenient, but the isolation gives the place a special atmosphere and a solitude you just can't get at the other cliffs. On this beautiful Sunday, while the other cliffs were surely overrun with gumbies (and I mean no offense to all of you gumbies out there), Gail and I were the only people climbing at Millbrook all day.




I hope it doesn't take me a year or more to go back.There are several other climbs I'm dying to try. Maybe I've got the Millbrook bug.

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.