Julian has a new ride...

So I spent a too-large portion of my day yesterday picking up Julian's new ride from REI. A "Weehoo I-Go", which is a recumbent trailer bike that lets children pedal too. This thing is sweet. Today, we HAD to go for a test drive.

Cruisin' the parking lot. Julian thinks this is great.

He's still a little too short to pedal yet, even with the seat all the way forward on the adjuster rails, but that will change quickly, as everything concerning children seems to do. We started out having no idea where we should go, so we left the parking lot and I just followed my nose...

Checking in with the crew just after the River Crossing Bridge.

... toward the mountains, naturally. We crossed the Bitterroot River and followed Blue Mountain Road for a little while.

The winding Bitteroot River.

Looking out over the valley.

We stopped at Maclay Flat for a quick pit stop and learned, rather unfortunately, that there are no bikes allowed on the trails. So we rolled out toward Hwy 93 and got some lunch. The way back home winds through quiet neighborhoods and along urban trail, right along the Clark Fork.

Almost 40 degrees out, the river is still quite frozen.

We stopped under one of the several bridges for a photo-op.

Rene looking out at the river.

This was architecturally appealing. Stone arch and frozen river.

Here's Melissa, and Julian displaying some mud splatter he's managed to collect along the way.

All told, 18 miles on a Sunday afternoon, and a good time had by all. The Weehoo I-Go is a fantastic product, a little heavy, but handles well and is easy to pull. The seatpost hitch puts a little more side-loading on the bike than the skewer hitch on the old 2 wheel trailer... will take some getting used to, but it seems solid and predictable. We're looking forward to putting some serious mileage on it this year, on road and off.

Now, he just needs to grow into it a bit so he can pedal... he needs to help me up those hills... yes, I will probably have to bribe him.

Torture

My oldest son, Rene, loves Calvin and Hobbes. It occurred to me yesterday that I was feeling something that the protagonist of these witty comics frequently announces with obvious displeasure: "TORTURE!"

Right. Torture is:

1. Waiting for USPS/UPS/FedEx to deliver lots of parts for the bike, in no particular order, and at no specified time.

2. Waiting for the weather to cooperate just enough to be able to get out for any kind of decent ride. I'm no stranger to being out in averse weather conditions, but when the windchill is -12 I'll stay inside, thanks.

3. Making the holy, if somewhat futile, attempt to satisfy the needs for entertainment and stimulation of a three year old child who LOVES to be outside, wants to RUN and go  TO THE PARK and for BIKE RIDES, and just doesn't really respond well to all this time we seem to be spending in the living room.

4. Realizing that I bought a new digital camera, and haven't been out to take a single picture with it... a GPS to use with Topofusion that hasn't been used except for a single test run grocery shopping... because I take very few pictures in the worst of winter.. because we don't exactly do much. Next year, we're getting snowshoes or cross-country skis or something.

So... yeah. It is almost March. The bike is almost finished. The temperature is almost above zero. This is why spring is my least favorite season, I think. There is the allusion to, the promise of, something just around the bend... everything seems to be imminent, yet just out of reach.

Just another few weeks.

New ride...

So today was a turning of the wheel. We left the house on our way to a lazy Sunday brunch and I blew up my chain. Stopped at the gas station and found 4 links with side plates completely cracked apart. Shorted the chain and made it to Dennys where we all consumed an enormous breakfast shortly after noon. We stopped by Open Road where I bought a new 9-speed chain, something I really didn't want to do given that I am building a new bike and my trusty TCX (which is beginning to slowly fall apart) will be retired from active duty... now it will retire with a brand new chain - figures.

But it is all according to plan. The Giant only has to keep me mobile for another month or so. Today I clicked the button that sent the final shipment of parts for my new bike build. It has been a 3 month long, agonizing process involving spreadsheets, sleepless nights, internal debate, and way too much time reading posts in internet forums. But today, it was all made worth it.

The build will probably occupy a small portion of my time over the next six weeks or so, and then my new bike will carry me and my son Julian into the outdoors for our regular adventures.

For now, it suffices to say, the bike will be amazing. The perfect 50/50, pavement/dirt machine. Simple. Reliable. A touch of old school and a sprinkling of modern gizmos. Wide profile cantis, square taper cranks, and a lugged fork... along with flared mountain drops, clipless pedals, and a GPS. Friction shifter on the downtube? Check. 900 lumen Li-Ion powered LED light system? Check.

It actually feels really good to be almost done with this build. I have spent so much time with it, planning, considering, budgeting, weighing pros and cons... Now I want to be done... I just want it to do what a good bike is supposed to do... I don't want to think about it... I want to go ride.

Full build spec and photos to follow.

2.4.2011 - Ride report

Grant Creek Rd.

Headed out of Missoula up Grant Creek Rd. I like this route. Enough climbing to make you feel it (especially when I have my navigator along for the ride in his two-wheeled trailer), but nothing steep and it gets you out of town quick.

Today there was a mix of slush and ice on the road surface and a couple inches of slush on the shoulder though, that combined with an ambient temperate of 31 degrees F to produce conditions that were barely ridable. I did a lot of running next to the bike. I pedaled downhill just to keep the bike moving. The slush filled the fork crown and the chainstays and the spokes. Running down the hills became safer than riding. Ride up, run down. Slush creeping in between the toes of my Vibram Five Fingers. Sweat stinging the eyes and fogging my riding glasses. Julian singing, enjoying the scenery rolling by.

Insight: These conditions were considerably less than ideal for riding. It doesn't matter. Left the camera at home because of the dark skies and rain. Doesn't matter. What matters? Ride. Climb. Descend. Run. Breathe. Wipe sweat. Smile. There is only this moment. This suffering is the Truth. This suffering is real. It lets me know I am alive. And it is a direct result of doing what I love to do.

This ride up Grant Creek Rd is quickly becoming Julian's favorite. He knows we usually stop at the coffee shop on the way back into town for a quick snack. Mmmmm. Banana chocolate chip coffee cake.

Resolution

This is me, with WAY too much stuff attached to my bike.

This last year has been a wild ride. I've come to a point where I need to make a firm resolution.

Not just a new years resolution. And not a "you just had a birthday" resolution. A resolution to improve my quality of life. To do what I love to do, and what my youngest son, who just turned three, loves to do.

We moved to Montana through the convoluted evolution of meticulous planning, unforseen hardships, and unrelenting effort. ("We", btw, does not include the kids. Only Melissa and I made this trip. The kids got to ride up in the grandparents RV. Cheaters.)

My girlfriend Melissa climbing out of Flagstaff.

Through the badlands.

Camping. Somewhere in Utah.

Favorite picture ever. The Salmon Highway in Idaho.

Ascending Lost Trail Pass

Okay. We're here. Now what?

At first, the reality was less than tantalizing. It rained. All the time. Jobs were scarce. The city was bigger than I was used to, and the places I wanted to be were further away. The sun disappeared for weeks at a time behind a uniform layer of gray, murky clouds.

What was I expecting? Paradise on earth? It took a little while to re-adjust my thinking. Expectations are the worst enemy of truth.

We learned to navigate the city by bicycle, our only means of transportation, and the one that brought us here from Arizona. We learned how to dress for the weather as it swung like the pendulum in a grandfather clock from -12 F to +40 F. We learned how to schedule commuting and grocery store trips, one kid in school, and trips to library, and family ventures up the canyons, out of town, and into the wilderness.

This is Julian. He wants to be outside. All the time.

Rene (10 years old), walking, head down, on the trail up to the M.
Julian (3 years old), running up the steep trail and laughing.

My favorite photo of the kids. They both had a great time hiking, even Rene (my oldest son) who is trying to look like a real tough guy who isn't into this sort of thing.

So back to that resolution of mine. I am going to ride my bike. I'm building a new bike for the express purpose of spending time away from the city with the kids. Julian, my youngest, is like me and has no love for cities either, and would really rather be out on a bumpy forest road in the woods, running through the trees, or climbing some rocks.

I'm going to get back in shape. That involves commitment. It isn't like I'm totally out of it right now, I still consider a 30 mile ride with 1500 feet of climbing a pretty mellow day ride. But it isn't enough. I've got to transport Julian, and camping/climbing/whatever gear. Oh, and we live in a glacially carved bowl, so pretty much any ride out of town involves a half mile of elevation gain to get out of the valley. I'm willing to commit to riding longer, harder, and higher. To escape the trappings of civilization and get out in the real world. I'm willing to make the best possible use of every moment of this precious life, and hopefully instill this outlook in my children.

This blog is mostly about that resolution and the execution thereof. I will include reflections on our adventures, on parenting (an adventure in and of itself), on philosophy and this ever-changing world, and on my Buddhist perspective and how each moment is an opportunity for insight.