First day of school

Riding to school.

Today was the first day of school. We had a nice ride along the trail on a perfect morning. It's hard to believe that summer vacation is already over, but it is good to remember that summer itself still has more than a month left.

Locking up. There were three other bikes at the rack.

For whatever reason, the first day of school is only a half day, so I picked her up for a picnic lunch on the way home. We ate our sandwiches while talking about the cell structure of plants, among other potential science fair ideas. Afterwards, we rode the trail home. Here's to another great school year!

Road trip

Just one of the thousands of pristine gravel roads of North Dakota.

In the early part of the month, we took a little over a week to go on a road trip. We ventured northward through Colorado, across Wyoming and southeastern Montana, western South Dakota and sliced through North Dakota diagonally from southwest to northeast. The objectives were alternately to visit relatives and sightsee along the way. Of course, I brought some wheels; my single-speed Surly Cross-Check serving as my do-it-all machine. As of today, I'm up to 238 consecutive days of riding a bike.

The iconic bronze tyrannosaur in front of the University of Wyoming's Geological Museum in Laramie.

Helping Grandpa feed a calf at his ranch.

Riding in the buddy seat on one of Grandpa's tractors.

This was as close as we got to Devil's Tower, as the day we came through it was swamped with motorcycle riders from the nearby Sturgis rally.

Examining an archaeological artifact on the Wyoming prairie. 

Scout loved running along on rides without the need for a harness.

Quarter-sized hail fell one afternoon.

Practicing cowgirl skills by roping the fence with her new lariat while sporting boots and spurs.

For much of our trip, the weather was uncharacteristically cool and damp. I can't remember an August that's been so green and rainy in this part of the world. Although an aberration, the weather generally made for pleasant days outside, though we found that we didn't pack enough warmer clothes.

Exploring in Makoshika State Park, Montana.

Posing with Salem Sue, the world's largest Holstein cow, New Salem, ND.

On a pedestrian bridge across the Yellowstone River.

I always found time to fit in a daily ride.

With two kids, one of whom is definitely still in the pre reasoning and/or bargaining phase, we took things slow and made lots of stops. We rarely passed places where ice cream was obviously being sold without stopping. Not a bad travel philosophy, actually.

Bull riding at King Ropes, Sheridan, WY.

A late afternoon meltdown at the Fort McKeen blockhouses, Fort Lincoln State Park, Mandan, ND.

Railroad bridge across the Missouri River, Bismark, ND.

Splashing in the Missouri River.

Once we were approaching the family reunion destination in northeastern North Dakota, the girls dropped me off and I rode the rest of the way. For years, I'd been hoping to ride some of the gravel roads in the area, and I thought my single-speed Cross-Check would be a good choice. As it turns out, it did fairly well on the gravel with 38 mm tires, but I wasn't entirely satisfied with its suitability.

The Cross-Check has always been a good semi-rough conditions, semi-road-ish bike; in fact its capacity to serve these purposes were why I first bought it. Of my many bikes, I've generally thought of the CC as being my best general purpose all-rounder. However, my tastes may have changed in the decade plus since I've had the bike. Though it rode well on many sections of the gravel roads I encountered, there were times when I would have liked to have had some wider tread. In turns where the gravel was deep, the CC's footing felt less than confidence inspiring. At other times, when the gravel was comprised of larger pieces, the front tire popped back and forth between rocks like a pinball.

I know that my perceptions are colored by the many miles I've ridden recently on fatter tires, primarily on a Big Dummy with 26 x 2.2 knobbies and a Pugsley with 26 x 3.8 fatties, and that I've never really been a road bike rider. Yet, I kept thinking about how a 29er with fatter tires would have done anything the CC did at least as well, and would have been more enjoyable for most of the riding I did during the trip, especially on gravel. I suppose I like the concept of sorta-fat tires on a road bike, but in practice, I like the practicality of actually fat tires on an all-terrain bike. For anything other than pavement riding, I think 2.0+ 29er tires trump pseudo fat tires, no matter how much wider they appear to be compared to standard skinny road tires. This is not to disparage the CC or tires narrower than 50 mm, just an observation of my evolving perceptions and lifelong gravitation toward meatier tread. It all amounts to more evidence to support a 29er (or 29+) in my future.

Much of North Dakota looks basically like this in any direction.

Verdant crops are omnipresent. 

The bean green Cross-Check blends into the landscape.

Though I didn't really do any bikepacking, I did get to do a little bike camping during the trip. I was able to strap everything I needed for a S8O (sub 8-hour overnight) to the CC, and Scout and I were off.  A town park, with the permission of a city council member, made for a pleasant camp spot. Across much of northern North Dakota and Minnesota, small towns are usually at 10 to 20 mile intervals. The geography of the area and the copious, lightly traveled roads make for endless possibilities to cross this part of the country by bike.

As with most road trips, near the end, we were ready to be home. The girls did well and had fun, and we learned how to improve our procedures along the way. Next time around, I hope to be able to take a little more time for a solo bike trip to explore a bit and meet up with the family along the way.

Playing along the banks of Spearfish Creek.

Fun with static electricity.

Miyata Ridge Runner strip down

The Ridge Runner, clean and awaiting a coat of wax

I don't have much time for a real post, so this will have to suffice. In short, my '84 Miyata Ridge Runner is in the midst of a rebirth of sorts. I took a little time to strip it down and am rebuilding it from the bearings outward. When it's finished, it will be at least as good as new, with a few appropriate updates along the way.

The good news is that there is zero rust inside, and most of the bike's original parts are in nice condition and are shining up well. The bad news is the bottom bracket is toast, and a couple of other parts are iffy. Such is the case with a largely disused mechanical object after 29 years. More details in a meaty post steeped in bike geekery in the fairly near future. Until then, get out and ride.

Lazy summer riding: 215 days and counting

Smile from the trail.

A few odds and ends from the past week or so. It is now at the point in the summer when the time seems to be speeding toward Labor Day; it's the same sort of phenomenon that made it difficult for me to enjoy Sunday afternoons as a kid. Looming responsibilities and school somehow seem to cut into enjoying the moment.

In any case, I have maintained my consecutive days of riding, which total 215 as of today. What may have been a bit of a challenge to continue early on has considerable momentum now, and even a family road trip coming up soon doesn't hold much threat to breaking my streak. Daily rides for transportation and daily rides to keep either kids or dog happy contribute to the mass of the spinning flywheel.

A few nights ago, we came upon a fire burning near the dirt trails in our neighborhood park. Julie saw a few teenage boys running from the direction of the flames, but I was too concentrated on the flames themselves and whether anyone had yet called the fire department to notice them. Within minutes, the flames were more than ten feet tall and the area was crackling.

Julie rode to the site of the fire to see if anyone needed help.

Several people at the park called fire and police, and trucks arrived within a few minutes.

We haven't yet found out exactly what happened, but it's likely a group of teenage boys were up to no good. For our girls, it was exciting to be on the arriving end of a fire truck excursion. The firemen had the flames out within a couple of minutes, but smoke and falling ash stayed in the area for some time. Fortunately, there were no injuries and the damage was minimal. A couple of days later, we surveyed the site.

Poor quality phone cam doesn't show a lot, but much of the underbrush here was turned to ash.

The trees in the fire area appear mostly unchanged.

A day after the fire, we attended a local outdoor concert. The highlight of the music was Sousa's Washington Post March, which seemed just about perfect for an evening ride.

The Dummy makes a good seat or picnic table, or provides a little shade during outdoor events.

The low evening sun and a backdrop of threatening clouds makes for some great imagery that I am just barely capable of capturing.

Earlier in the week, our out-of-town guests departed, but not before I took the girls out for one last ride. They took the opportunity to practice some skidding, and were impressed with my stories as a kid of skidding my way through tires all the way down to the cords. Perhaps their parents will have to foot the bill for some new tires for their bikes back home.

Yesterday, I was among a small group who took a B-cycle ride with Mayor Hancock of Denver. The purpose was to observe some infrastructural improvements in a couple of neighborhoods, as well as to see where there are shortcomings in the network. From an advocacy standpoint, it is encouraging to see bicycling issues taking a higher profile than they have in the past, though I have enough experience to know that improvements are hard won and take a lot of time and effort.

Mayor Hancock on the left, as Phil of Denver B-cycle leads the way.

After the ride and on the way to the office, I spotted a derelict and partially stripped Fisher Advance, predating the Trek buyout, circa 1990. It's always sad to see a nice old steel bike go out like this. 

On a ride with 8 girls

Six girls out in front. Another two are with me bringing up the tail.

In our household, I'm vastly outnumbered by females. It has taken some time for me to orient myself in this situation. I grew up with only brothers, and during a long stretch of awkward and ungainly years, girls were a distant phenomenon. To me, they were as unknowable as Martians, or Venusians as the case may be.

In years since, I've had opportunities to make progress in understanding. As it happens, in addition to the female members of my own household, my sister-in-law and her two daughters visit annually, an event of which we are currently in the midst. Added to that, today we also had a school pal over for a visit. As might be imagined, these factors led to a planetary alignment mandating raucous, girly activities.

The afternoon was filled with squealing at various decibel levels, trending toward the upper end of the spectrum. I must admit, I took refuge in the bike barn. The cacophony subsided somewhat as a couple of pizzas met their end. Then, the horde issued a call for a bike ride to the dirt hills. At last! They were speaking my language. It just so happens that I have sufficient bikes to equip them all, so with a little tweaking and adjustment, we were off for a summer evening ride.

My co-pilot kept me apprised of the status of the convoy.

Already accomplished at mugging for the camera.

Our fleet of bikes stretched out for about half a block as we made our way through the neighborhood to the park and the dirt trails. As is the case with this bunch, there was no shortage of competitiveness, so a little racing and jockeying for position ensued. By the time we got to the park, some were ready for the dirt and others were ready for a rest.

The Dummy with my home-built removable second seat back installed. Details to follow when I am able. 

For the astute reader, Scout is the eighth girl on the ride.

Meredith was a first-time dirt bike rider. From the sound of her yelling, dirt riding was a hit.

After many circuits, interspersed with frisbee throwing and running in the grass, it was time to head for home. I'm not certain that I can say I understand the intricacies of the feminine psyche much more now than I ever have, but I do know that they like riding bikes as much as I did and still do. I'm also more than a little proud that my group of girls whooped it up on the dirt hills on their bikes, relishing the bumps and skidding up clouds of dust.

The lone boy of similar age who passed by looked at them in wonder and perhaps a touch of fear from aboard his bike; a pavement-bound BMX with training wheels serving as outriggers. The irony doesn't escape me that I take much satisfaction in knowing that my girls will likely befuddle boys of their generation.