In the middle of the journey of my life, I am--as always--a woman on a bike. Although I do not know where this road will lead, the way is not lost, for I have arrived here. And I am on my bicycle, again.
The weather warmed up a bit today, but it was still pretty blustery. Still, this day felt very October-like, in contrast to the last three days, which felt more like Thanksgiving weekend. Not that I mind cool or chilly weather; it just seemed to follow me from Canada after the mild weather this part of the world was experiencing as I embarked. Anyway, this afternoon I had some time to sneak out for a Coney Island ride, and to return home via the path that passes under the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge--about 65 kilometers all told.
One sign that it's really Fall is that the boardwalk was not full of the strollers, sunbathers and such one sees even on weekdays for a few weeks after Labor Day. But, more important, the light and air take on different hues and feels around the time of the Equinox.
Is it my imagination, but has the Parachute Jump taken on the color of fallen leaves? A few weeks ago, it seemed more like a reddish-orange. Hmm...Could I be imposing my ideas of the season on things I see? Is life imitating the season?
Whatever, Tosca seemed to be enjoying it as much as I did. Even though I didn't have a lower gear to shift into when I was pedaling into the wind, I didn't feel as if I had been straining. In fact, riding today seemed like a shorter version of my ride the other day, albeit with different scenery. Maybe it has something to do with the way I respond to the light and air of this time of year.
On the Coney Island Boardwalk, this sign has a way of popping up where you've never seen it before, after you haven't seen it for a long time. I would have expected to see it during the height of the summer season. As a matter of fact, a couple of times when I rode on the boardwalk during the summer, police officers motioned for me to get off my bike. But today there were no cops in sight. Still, I didn't ride along the boarwalk: I had just a bit more than enough time to ride to Coney and back. But it was plenty.
Whenever I ride my Mercians, I find that I've actually ridden faster than I thought I was riding and, even when riding on rough stretches or climbing into the wind, I don't feel beat-up or worn-down at the end. This is particulary true of Arielle, my Mercian Audax.
It's a bike meant for longer rides, hence the model name. With such a purpose in mind, the bike is designed with a somewhat longer wheelbase and slightly shallower angles than a dedicated racing bike. On the other hand, its geometry is tighter than that of a full-load touring bike or even many randonneur bikes. It also has, according to my specification, a shorter top tube than is typically found on touring (and even some racing) frames in Arielle's size (56 cm center-to-center) to accomodate the rather long legs and short torso I have for a person of my height.
When I was ordering Arielle--the first Mercian I bought--I was going to specify 16mm diameter seat stays. At the time, Mercian was still offering 12mm on some models, including the Audax. Hal Ruzal at Bicycle Habitat talked me into going with the 12mm, in part because that's what he has on one of his Mercians, which is very similar to Arielle.
I'm glad he did. Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear, has 16mm stays. It feels stiffer, but that may have to do with the geometry of the bike rather than the stay diameter. Arielle, however, never felt flexy or noodly to me. Yet those 12mm stays, I believe, absorb more road shock than the thicker stays, which--I'm guessing--is the reason why I never feel "beat up" after riding her.
I also am glad Hal--and the folks at Mercian--convinced me to buy an Audax rather than one of the other models. I didn't want a full-on touring bike: If I ever do another multi-day tour, it will probably be with a light load. On the other hand, I didn't want another racing-specific bike: I'd owned and ridden a number of those and felt as if I were past being even a "wannabe", let alone an actual racer.
On this bike, I can ride fast when I want to, but--more important to me at this point in my life--I can simply enjoy the ride. It has never felt like a "compromise": It's simply a bike that fits well and feels good.
Because Arielle fits and rides so well, specifying my next two custom Mercians--Tosca, my fixed-gear and Helene, one of my Miss Mercians--easy. Tosca's geometry is just a bit tighter; Helene's dimensions were tweaked to allow wider tires and fenders.
Vera, my other Miss Mercian, is the only one of my Mercians that wasn't custom-built for me: I bought it second-hand. So, while its fit is a bit different from that of the others (the imaginary top tube length is 15mm longer than on Arielle or Helene and 10 mm longer than on Tosca, and the chain stays are about 15 mm longer than the ones on Helene), my experience with my other Mercians served as a good guideline in helping me choose the right stem length and such. Overall, it has the cushiest ride of my "Mercs" and, not surprisingly, Tosca has the stiffest and most responsive.
All of them feel great, but, as the saying goes, there's nothing like the first. And mine (at least in terms of my Mercians) is Arielle.
Last week, during my trip to Montreal, I wrote about (among other things) the autumn light and air. Well, today had a particularly autumnal feel--at least in part because the weather was colder than it's been in six months or so. When I was talking to my mother a little while ago, I joked that I brought the cold, and the season, back with me because I knew I wouldn't have any trouble getting them through US Customs! Anyway, on a day so typical of this season, thoughts turn to foliage and red barns and such. Well, the leaves are starting to turn brightly in local parks and fallen leaves stream along the curbs. But there aren't a whole lot of red barns in this city. However, in some neighborhoods--including my own--there are houses that provide a rather nice backdrop for the blaze of colors.
But I also figured that if I went a little north of the city, the colors would be even brighter and there would be an even better stage for them. And Arielle, my Mercian Audax, was just begging to be ridden. And I wanted to ride her. The bike I rented in Montreal was actually pretty nice, but it still makes me appreciate Arielle--and my other Mercians--even more than I had before.
So, after pumping her tires and filling a water bottle, we were off to--you guessed it--Connecticut. It was just past noon when I started riding, and I knew that it's starting to get dark around 6pm now. Still, I figured, it would give me enough time to ride there, take in some autumn light and air in the Nutmeg State, and get home before dark. Although I have lights, there are a couple of parts of the route I prefer not to ride in the dark.
I was riding against of the wind most of the way back--which meant, of course, that I was riding with it most of the way back. The funny thing was that I didn't feel I was pedaling particularly hard on the way up, in spite of the wind that, at times, gusted to 35 KPH. And I didn't think I was pedaling particularly fast on the way back. Yet I made it back before sunset. Really, I can't ask for more of a Sunday afternoon ride in the middle of October.
When I got home, I felt invigorated, as I do after a good ride, but not tired. I often feel that way after long rides on my Mercians, but especially Arielle. Tomorrow, or some other time in the near future, I'll write about a possible reason.
Tourists ride "pedi cabs" and "bicycle taxis" in cities all over the world. People spin pedals in boats that are shaped like Disney characters and almost everything else imaginable. Pizzas are delivered in contraptions that are part-bike, part-cart. And cyclist Bryan Allen pedaled a gossamer across the English Channel in 1979.
It seems that pedal power has been used to propel humans and objects across time and space ever in just about every way imaginable. (Cycling to Mars, anyone?) So, it's a bit surprising that more people haven't thought about other ways of using the energy people generate when they spin their feet.
An organization called Maya Pedal has been doing just that. Founded in 1997 as a collaboration between Guatemalan bicycle mechanic Carlos Marroquin and Canadian organization, Maya Pedal has created several "bicimaquinas" fashioned from various combinations of used bicycles and parts, wood, concrete and metal. Each machine is handcrafted, unique and costs about $40.
One example is this bicycle mill, fitted to a hand-powered grinding mill or corn thresher. It can grind three pounds of any type of grain--typically yellow maize (corn), soybeans or coffee--per minute.
Another bicimaquina looks like a stationary bicycle with a blender above its front wheel. Actually, that's what it is. But, attached to the wheel is a rotor that substitutes for the electric motor found in the blenders most Americans use. The faster you pedal, the faster the mixer blade--which can attain speeds of 6400 RPM--spins.
Other Bicimaquinas include water pumps, coffee depulpers, generators, washing machines and even juicers nut shellers. That last has proved a real boon to a women's cooperative that makes peanut butter near Sololá . "Shelling the peanuts used to be the most labor intensive part of the business," says Maya Pedal coordinator Johanna Mesa Montuba. "Now they just load them up in the machine and it takes a quarter of the time." And the juicers, she says, are convenient because the women can take them to soccer games and other public events, where they can sell fresh juice.
Bicimaquinas have become popular in the Guatemalan countryside because they are cheap and easy to maintain: no small consideration in remote areas where supplies are difficult to find and bring in. And, if someone can't pay the full price of the machine up front, Maya Pedal will allow that person to purchase it in installments. This is a real help to those, especially women, who want to start their own small businesses but have little or no money.
Really, what better way is there to use old bikes and parts? And to think that I used to be so proud of myself for building "parts bin bikes"!
I discovered Le Cafe des Chats while walking down rue St. Denis, trying to delay getting on the bus to the airport for as long as I could. It was raining but still agreeably mild; I found myself wishing I had a bike. I know, I could have taken a pair of Bixi's wheels, but I didn't want to deal with the terminals.
Cats are, to me, the most agreeable rainy-day companions. The ones who inhabit Le Cafe were rescued from local shelters. Management has a list of ground rules, which include not picking up the cats or disturbing their sleep. But, other than those sensible guidelines, the cafe has no restrictions; they'll let you come in and take a look, but if you want to sit down, they'll ask you to buy something eat or drink. I ordered--naturally--a "Meow-cacino". If Le Cafe des Chats was a great way to leave Montreal, the Auberge Manoir Ville Marie made me feel very welcome and at-home from the moment I arrived.
It's a few minutes from the center of downtown, in a working-class French-speaking neighborhood that may be showing early signs of gentrification. One nice thing about its location is that it's very quiet: It's the sort of neighborhood in which most people are in bed by eleven or midnight because they're going to work in the morning. The ones I encountered were friendly and helpful when I asked for directions or was carrying my bags from the bus.
The hotel itself isn't merely self-consciously charming; it feels like a very, very human space. Much of that has to do with the proprietess, Shahrzad, who is also one of the most truly stylish people I have met in a long time. You can feel her enthusiasm for life; she talked excitedly about some of the artists who have stayed there--and whose exhibits she attended. I mentioned that I write and was happy that I could talk (however superficially, I later thought) about Rumi and other Persian poets. She carved this most welcoming of spaces out of an old post office building. Some work is still being done on the sidewalk in front of it, but inside, you'll can bask in the glow of your day's adventures and get a good nights' sleep. (P.S. The hotel's staff let me keep the bike I rented in a storeroom.) Another establishment I highly recommend is Velo Urbain. One thing I found very interesting is that the shop repairs and sells used bikes; they don't sell new bikes, but all of their rentals--including mine--are new. As the owner, Phillipe, explained to me, there are "moins des problemes" in doing so.
He and I spoke--and, before I arrived, exchanged e-mails--in French. However, one of his employees, Thomas, is thoroughly bilingual in English and French. Both are very helpful; in fact, Thomas realized, in fitting the bike to me, that I have rather long legs for my height and moved me to a larger-size frame than the one he'd normally recommend for a person of my height.
Even if the Norco I rode weren't brand-new, it still would have been better than most other rented bikes. The icing on the cake was this: $50 CAD for three full days. (At current exchange rates, that's a bit less than $40 USD.) They ask only that you leave some form of ID (I left my New York State non-drivers' ID, issued by the Department of Motor Vehicles) and that if you're renting for a full day, weekend or week, that you return the bike before they close (7pm; they open at 11 am). You don't need a reservation; you can just show up and ask to rent. Velo Urbain is located on la rue Papineau, near l'Avenue Mont-Royal. What that means, of course, is that if you want to challenge yourself right away, you turn left on the Avenue and start riding up the Mont. Or, if you want to ease yourself into riding, you can explore the neighborhood around the avenue, which abounds with cafes, restaurants and stores of just about every type imaginable.
