Confederacy of a Dunce - bike

an idea of my commute

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 14:46:27 GMT

Quite a while ago I posted some photos of my London cycle commute (link). You might get a different perspective on cycling in London from the video linked below. Please note, the movie file is 70mb, and it's accompanied by a heavy metal soundtrack. So turn down the volume if you don't want to ROCK!!!

London Calling (From digave.com, Lucas Brunelle Productions).

My own commute is somewhat less aggressive, and may have a different soundtrack. It also doesn't involve any parking garages.

An impossible cycling challenge

Wed, 06 Jun 2007 16:48:40 GMT

Impossible?! Never. But sadly, this time it's true.

Some time ago, I decided to try and find a legal cycling route between home and work which allowed me to avoid every single traffic light on my way. The original post where I set out the challenge is here and here is a follow-up post where I successfully reduced the total to five (or six, but then it hardly matters if it's not zero).

In the past few days I've been working tirelessly to solve one particular vexing problem: the iron curtain around my workplace. You might get an idea of the situation by peering at this Google Map. My workplace lies in the center of the map, and home is north by northeast. The blue place markers indicate intersections that are controlled by traffic signals.

Unfortunately, a careful survey of all the possible (legal) crossings seems to show that my challenge is impossible. It appears that a rectangle bounded by the A501, A420, A401, and A400 is a nearly inescapable trap, at least for any cyclist hoping to avoid all traffic signals and still ride legally (one apparent possibility is actually pedestrian-only). Today I tested my last hope, a circuitous route heading southwest (indicated by the blue line in the above-linked Google Map). I did manage to get across the A400, but only just. It takes me to the massively nasty traffic system around New Oxford Street, High Holborn and so on, the last place a traffic signal avoider wants to be.

So this is a challenge that must remain unsolved, at least until some of the traffic signals are removed.

Avoiding traffic signals - not quite

Fri, 20 Apr 2007 16:18:50 GMT

Well, my ride home yesterday wasn't successful. I did get home, and it only took twice as long as usual, but sadly my first attempt to go traffic-light-less just didn't work out. Even though I had a pretty useful scrap of paper with cryptic notation concerning the streets and intersections I planned to use (nose in the map is not allowed, but consulting a scribbled sheet on the fly is OK)

I did reduce the number of traffic signals to six, but also including a few non-legal maneuvers. My real failing was in my clever attempt to avoid traffic signals by (legally) riding in parks. However, I failed to notice that nearly all of the park entrances were protected by traffic signals (so that park users can enter and leave safely, I guess). This was even the case where motor vehicles were quite clearly prohibited. My no-backtracking rule also left me at two park exits, facing a traffic signal, and unable to backtrack and try a different exit.

There were also a couple of places where bicycle riding isn't quite kosher but this is not apparent from the map. Mostly pavement/sidewalk riding, albeit very briefly (e.g. Woburn Walk, which looks like a road on the map, but is quite obviously pedestrian-only. I should have remembered this, working just around the corner. Or another road which dead-ends, and the only place to ride is across a pavement/sidewalk onto the adjoining road). The only other rule-breaking occurred when I saw a traffic signal ahead and had no place to go but the wrong way on a one-way street (maybe a very good possibility in the other direction, though, as long as I can solve my "park problem").

So yesterday's score is 5 traffic lights, 4 riding in pedestrian areas, and one "wrong way". I think I can do better, but some more obsessive-compulsive behavior will be necessary.

Avoiding traffic signals

Thu, 19 Apr 2007 16:35:34 GMT

Red light jumping is probably the most hotly debated issue on the cycling forums I read, and it's no wonder with the huge number of traffic signals in most British cities. My own commute is just a little bit over six miles, and includes a massive number of traffic lights.

Going to work in the morning I face exactly 50, and my usual route home includes 25. No, I don't use time warping technology, it's just that my commuting demands are different and different times of day. In the morning my aim is to get to work as quickly as I can, possibly with some decent exercise along the way. I'm not so interested in scenery or anything nice, just blitzing down the road to work. From our new house the quickest route by far is on the main roads, which have a lot more traffic signals.

On the way home I'm much more inclined to take quieter back streets at the expense of speed. And also to avoid three very nasty traffic-snarly areas (turn at Camden Town, Nags Head area just after Holloway Road, bus stops at Finsbury Park station and just thereafter), areas that are not bad at all in the other direction in the morning. But 25 traffic signals are still quite a few. And there are any number of them that I'm tempted to jump now and again.

The only solution, really, is to devise a cycling route that avoids all traffic signals. Then it would not even be possible for me to jump a red light. Of course this would be a trivial exercise if there were a canal route or converted rail line between work and home. But there isn't. It would also be trivially easy if I permitted myself to break other traffic laws in order to avoid red lights. For example, every time I approached a traffic signal, then mount the pavement ("sidewalk" in US English), go around the corner and cross the street away from the signal. No, this cycling route needs to be a legitimate cycling route (thus ruling out pavement riding and off-road riding).

I've looked carefully at maps and I think it's possible. London isn't exactly conducive to planning convenient alternative routes, at least anything remotely direct, but it appears that I can take advantage of numerous back streets in a winding homeward journey. The real difficulties are all related to crossing major streets (especially when there are major intersections involved). I see quite a lot of occasions where I will have to enter a main road from a small side street, then divert quickly down another side street before reaching a traffic signal.

Finally, I shouldn't be riding with my nose in a map, so there's every chance this will fail on the first attempt even if the route itself is workable. Just for sanity's sake (if sanity can be said to relate at all to this challenge) I'll also forbid direct backtracking. Chances of success? Not great.

Adventures of a very large head

Mon, 11 Dec 2006 13:53:07 GMT

During our recent trip to the USA, we spent a bit of time visiting bicycle shops in the Pensacola metro area, in search of a new helmet to replace my current one (extra large Giro Laguna) which is starting to show signs of age. Now it's been some time since I've shopped for a helmet (the current one came from my father, who no doubt found it at a super-low price in a clearance sale somewhere), and I've discovered a worrying new trend in cycle helmet fashion.

My previous helmets have all been variations of a general theme: the helmet is secured by a chin-strap which divides just under the ears, plus (lately) a sort of plastic cradle at the back of the head, held in place by the straps. Fine fitting adjustments can be made by shortening or lengthening various parts of the straps, and foam pads of variable thickness (in my case, the thinnest ones available) are placed to ensure that the helmet fits securely against the head. Most new helmets I saw in cycle shops still have the chin straps, but these are used only to ensure that the helmet stays on in a crash. Instead, these helmets are secured by an adjustment system somewhat similar to an adjustable baseball cap. Various companies have their own terms for this sort of system ("ring fit systems", such as Bell's ErgoDial, Giro's Acu-Dial and so on), based on a sound idea: ensuring that helmets are properly fitted so that they will actually protect the head as much as possible in an impact (most helmets are not worn correctly, most commonly leaving the forehead unprotected; see this site for info on "How to fit a bicycle helmet"). Unfortunately, none of these systems seem to accommodate a head that is significantly larger than average (much less a large head wearing a hat for winter warmth). My own head happens to be at least an American size 8, a circumference that goes beyond the range of your readily available ErgoDial etc. products. So I returned to London without a new helmet after all.

Since then I've looked around a bit more. There's a nice page on helmets.org specifically listing the helmets that are available for large-sized heads. At the top of the list are the Bell Kinghead and the Vigor Duo, both of which are advertised as fitting 26-inch heads. So now it's just (I hope "just") a matter of finding someone who carries one of them; my initial google searches show nothing (0 hits for "vigor duo" site:uk; only two for "bell kinghead" site:uk, and both of those are junk/link farm sites). At least there's hope I'll be able to get a helmet that does not require someone making a custom mold of my head.

Nowy Sacz - Krakow (Day 7:Poland - Slovakia)

Wed, 18 Oct 2006 17:11:04 GMT

Sorry it’s been quite a while since I updated, thanks to the usual routine of just too busy to do anything. I’ve finally found a corner of sort-of-free time to write the last in my current cycle tourism series. We got up for the last morning of riding, fortified ourselves with a hefty hotel breakfast (giant omelette filled with strange assorted canned vegetables), then consulted the maps to decide on the best route back to Krakow. There was a small problem, though: only one of us had a map with sufficient detail to show all the roads on our desired route: taking roads as small as possible to avoid the main highways wherever we could (Not to say we were traveling without maps. Everyone had a map that showed highways both major and minor). The owner of the detailed map was, of course, your narrator (the Dunce is not above over-planning his activities, perhaps to a fault). Anyway, our plan was to stick together fairly closely, so that we’d all manage to make the correct turns at the correct moments. Not a problem; the previous day’s ride gave us a pretty good idea that we’d overestimated the amount of climbing we’d have to do (therefore making it easier to stick together: climbing sections are where groups separate quite quickly).

After the previous evening’s ride into Nowy Sacz (along a very busy highway) it was incredibly gratifying that getting out of town was much easier: immediately after crossing a bridge at the edge of the old town, we suddenly found ourselves on a quiet suburban two-lane road which quickly became quite rural (I guess Nowy Sacz style urban sprawl only happens in certain directions). And then the first climb commenced. Contrary to our expectations there were a number of climbs, the first of which led almost immediately to a separation of the group into three or four subgroups (each containing one or two riders). I, holder of the map, was unfortunately not in the lead group, and a combination of this with some badly lacking (i.e. absent) road signage led us to miss our first turn and continue for some distance on a more major road than any of us would have preferred. It was still only a minor highway but had quite a bit of traffic. This caused a bit of upheaval among the more athletically-inclined members (member) of our group who preferred to be in charge of both leading and route planning rather than leaving it to someone somewhere behind him on the road. A transfer of the map was effected about this time. We continued onward, the group splitting once again, and foolishly some of the rearguard decided to take a brief(?) stop to check out another wooden church. Unfortunately this did not bode well for the newly-appointed map-holder who had suddenly become very concerned about the possibility of reaching Krakow before dark, and issued a command that none of us should stop at churches, and further that we should follow the most direct route to Krakow. This may have been an entirely reasonable fear given the unexpected amount of climbing, and the inaccurate measure of distance on our first day riding. However, it may also have been related to the newly-appointed map-holder’s failure to realize the extent of the change in map scale (going from 1:500,000 to 1:200,000) and thus overestimating the distance remaining by 100% or more. Or something; in any event any sensible reader should find it quite obvious that I'm exaggerating the degree of conflict for narrative effect (perhaps highly ineffectively).

I might mention here that despite some degree of mental anguish (on the part of the newly appointed map holder, that we might not make it to Krakow before dark, and that some of us were lollygagging to an unacceptable degree. On the part of others, that the newly appointed map holder had gone power-mad for no apparent reason, and that we should lollygag more just out of spite), the scenery was still quite nice. Well-off farming communities for the most part along pretty river valleys, and on up into the hills.

I might be giving a sort of grumbling tone, but it was actually quite fine as we were making good time (especially for those whose scale of the map was somewhat distorted). However, the quality of the road surface was gradually deteriorating, and suddenly we found ourselves at the junction of a major highway leading to Krakow (and the only road that appeared on my map that went anywhere near where we wanted to go). Not only a major highway but a narrow, two lane highway with no shoulder and loads of fast-moving traffic. Mere moments (not even minutes!) after joining this road, three out of four of us were run off the road by a passing bus which not only failed to give us any room whatsoever, but would have run us over had we not taken to the (highly undesirable) ditch. As we had no other choice (and only 4km or so before we reached the next town), we tightened the straps on our helmets and took off at the highest pace we could manage, keeping an eye on the shoulder and intentionally ducking off instead of being hit or crushed. As soon as we hit the outskirts of town we took to the sidewalks, then flopped down in a small park by the intersection of the two busiest, most dangerous small highways any of us had ever seen. None of us wanted to ride on such a road ever again, yet the only slightly direct route to Krakow was on that nasty road we'd just left (which no doubt only got worse as Krakow approached). Fortunately we figured out that we were quite close to Krakow: maybe 20km. So a much less direct route would still get us there in plenty of time (as it was still the very early hours of afternoon. Just seemed like evening. We planned to take the two long sides of a right triangle instead of its hypotenuse, and given that the two sides were approximately equal in length we could have had a pretty good estimate of distance, had any of us been capable of rational thought at that point. The riding was a little less interesting: terrain had flattened out and just about everything reminded me of northern Indiana (guess that's why a lot of Poles ended up there).

At least there weren't any buses or big trucks trying to wipe us out, but this last part of the ride was becoming a bit tedious. Flat and fairly dull, and without promise of much more (from the hills we had seen that everything flattened out most of the way to Krakow). So instead we headed straight north, planning to intersect a railway line with a general plan to take a train west to Krakow central station (thus avoiding the very undesirable concept of riding west into the major built-up and industrial areas of Krakow, right about rush hour and with the sun right in our eyes (and in the eyes of the assassins behind the wheels of buses and trucks). Before long, there it was, a train station (or at least two platforms with people idly waiting for the next train). Some 45 minutes later (30 minutes late) the train for Krakow arrived, signaling the end of our bike ride. The journey was not complete, however, as we, our bicycles and our filth crowded into two entry/exit compartments for the ride. Scheming looking young men soon joined us in the compartments, looking very suspiciously at us and our bikes. I thought surely we were about to be robbed or something, and I wasn't pleased at all when one of them forced one of the doors open while the train was still moving (his companion watching down the train for authorities). I held onto the bike (as if using it for balance) and made mental plans about what I would do if (a) I were thrown off the train, (b) my bike was thrown off the train, (c) I and my bike were thrown off the train, (d) various other criminal activities upon my person and/or belongings. Turns out they were just sneaking into the entry/exit compartment to smoke. Reality 1, paranoia 0. (Or so "They" would like you to think. Anyway, we made it to the station, and to the hotel without further incident.

Distance ridden for the day: a not-so pleasant 52.9 miles
Time on the bikes for the day: 5:00 (moving time)
Moving average: 10.6mph
Maximum speed: 35.0mph.

Today's altitude profile was unexpectedly peaky though nowhere near as nasty as that first day:

Total distance for the trip came out at 266 miles, total riding time 23 hours and 36 minutes.

The last night in Krakow was uneventful; we were too tired to do much of anything. Dismantling and packing the bicycles, then showers and an ordinary meal at a fast-foodish Georgian restaurant, then straight to bed with no shenanigans of any kind. And the trip back home was entirely ordinary (and home was a very very good place to be).

Bardejov - Nowy Sacz (Day 6:Poland - Slovakia)

Wed, 04 Oct 2006 15:06:44 GMT

With four snoring gentlemen in one small room, it's no real surprise that we were up quite early. Our quality accommodation offered no breakfast (although it did have a somewhat rundown kitchen, which might have been useful if we'd have bothered to buy any foodstuffs besides Snickers bars and beer). No problem, we'd just find a restaurant in the town centre. Well, after walking into several different establishments, we were sorely disappointed: we were looking for something a little more substantial than coffee or beer (half of the customers were having coffee for breakfast, the other half pints of beer). Eventually we found ourselves at a sandwich shop, very much a Slovakian equivalent of Subway (I might note here that in our entire time in Slovakia we didn't see any of the ubiquitous American chains: no Subway, KFC, McDonalds, Starbucks, nor any of your familiar large retailers). I had a big-ol sandwich with an odd mix of the non-meaty things on offer: boiled egg, mushrooms, cheese, pickled peppers, cabbage/slaw, onions, tomato, mustard. We sat there, gobbling our sandwiches and wondering what happened to the concept of breakfast in Bardejov.

Our original misconception was that today's ride might be the most difficult of them all, but our more informed reinspection of the maps gave a much more pleasant impression: hilly but not mountainous. We set off north from Bardejov toward the Polish border. Or we would have, except that P. discovered one of the bolts on his rack had worked itself loose and disappeared. Fortunately there was a bike shop on the main square, and they gave him a suitable replacement bolt (for free!). And then we actually did set off. Once again the weather was perfect for riding; slightly chilly, sunny, with a light breeze. Hazy/misty off in the distance but which had dissipated by the time we reached it. Roads were quite empty, apart from the occasional Mercedes (unusual compared to the rest of the traffic we'd seen in Slovakia). The last Slovakian town we passed was Becherov, the only place that had a Cyrillic sign:

The early part of the ride was a 6-mile climb (250m) up to the border crossing; here's a shot of a couple of us getting ready to attack the steepest part of it:

Although both countries are part of the EU the crossing is quite a serious one. High fences, gates, numerous guards with guns, motorbikes, jeeps and so on. And very quiet in terms of traffic: only a couple of cars passed through while we loitered on the Slovakian side (spending our SKK at the border shop, which unfortunately offered only chocolate and alcohol). Our passports were closely inspected, but none of us did anything rash or silly and we were permitted to pass. The road surface was very nice and we cruised downhill for the next 12 miles or so (passed several times by border patrol people on the aforementioned motorbikes and jeeps). The countryside was quite scenic: nice rolling hills and fairly prosperous-looking farms.

We climbed another long uphill section, and discovered to our general displeasure that its downhill counterpart contained some of the worst road surfaces we'd faced so far: not so many large potholes but innumerable small holes, broken surfaces and all the other properties that make a speedy descent a truly bone-jarring process. Not only bone-jarring but bicycle-jarring as well: all of MJ's chainring bolts had become slightly loose (fortunately these are easily tightened). Far worse, we discovered that P's rear cassette had jiggled itself extremely loose. As we didn't have the exact tool designed to tighten it, we would be stopping every five miles or so to tighten it back down as best we could. One more climb and then it was downhill the rest of the way to Nowy Sacz. It's fairly big (pop. ~80,000) and we found ourselves riding along a quite busy highway to the city centre. There we stumbled across a very nice hotel just off the main square, the Panorama (overlooking the river valley):

The rooms were good, the staff were very helpful, and there was even a quite secure sort of cellar area where we could stash the bicycles. MJ and P set off to find a cycle shop where P's cassette could be properly tightened (after a small wild goose chase they did find a workshop, where all it took was a good turn with a long-handled cassette wrench), and HH and I went on a less difficult mission (finding a nice outdoor cafe where we could have a coffee and a beer and some snacks). Nowy Sacz seems to have some interesting sights but we were much more inclined to sit and relax. Once the "cassette mission" had been completed, we took a bit of a wander, stopping for a couple of Zywiec Porters at a very lovely art deco jazz bar.

Dinner was at a very nice (although deserted) basement restaurant ("Restauracja Kupiecka") specializing in traditional Polish food. The cassette-mission boys went for the "most traditional/typical" option, pork in a prune sauce with buckwheat grits. They weren't a fan of this dish at all. However both HH and I had extremely delicious food: mine was trout in a creamy sauce, HH's was a venison dish, rated as perhaps the best food on the trip. And then it was time for a short wander round the square before returning to the hotel. Some of us had to stop and pose for a picture with the Pope sculpture:

MJ (front), Pope (rear)

Distance ridden for the day: a very pleasant 50.9 miles
Time on the bikes for the day: 4:15 (moving time)
Moving average: 11.9mph
Maximum speed: 37.7mph.

It was a gradual-up-and-down day:

Total distance for the ride so far: 212.8 miles, and only one more day of riding left.

Stara Lubovna - Bardejov (Day 5:Poland - Slovakia).

Tue, 03 Oct 2006 12:40:40 GMT

After the previous evenings' carnage, getting up in the morning was quite difficult. Fortunately there was a nice breakfast (with great coffee), and a reasonably short and easy ride ahead of us. Having figured out that our reading of the area's topography was dead wrong (except knowing for certain that there was one substantial climb, of unknown height, noted as 12% grade on the map), we were fairly pleased to note that the day's ride to Bardejov would be relatively short and easy. Our original plan was to do the entire distance from Stary Smokovec to Bardejov in one day, but we decided that Bardejov (preserved medieval city, UNESCO World Heritage site, etc.) should remain the day's destination. Here's a view from just out of Stara Lubovna, looking east towards Bardejov:

And another of the many roadside shrines along the way:

Although we were on a fairly major road, there was very little traffic in general, except for the occasional bus or loaded lumber truck. Quite a few people seemed to be getting around on foot instead:

There was only one real climb on this ride (a mere 160m or so), so we made much better time than we had even expected. As a result three of us (HH was riding ahead) decided we could afford to take a short uphill detour to check out one of eastern Slovakia's noted wooden churches (here is a general historical note, and here is a quite extensive site about them). Here's a picture of the church at Krive:

(More info and interior photos can be found here). We were fortunate that a carload of well-organized German tourists happened to be visiting at the time; they had arranged for the caretaker to let them in. So we too were able to inspect the interior (most notably 17th century icons). Now I should note here that I was the first of our group to arrive at the church, and being anxious to get inside and see it, I locked my bike rather than leaving it unattended. Imagine my dismay upon leaving the church when I realized that the padlock key was nowhere to be found. I had to admit this to my traveling companions who began helping me look around the grass to find it. The Germans hadn't left yet; although they were lightly sympathetic and highly amused, they had no suitable tools to chop a cable with (I still contend that attacking the lock mechanism itself would have been more productive). Very fortunately the key was found, right beside the bicycle. So we were able to unlock the bike, although I was no longer permitted to be custodian of the key.

The remaining distance to Bardejov was a pleasant downhill along a fairly busy (for Slovakia, anyway) highway. We arrived in the gorgeous town square to find HH semi-snoozing on a park bench. Here are a few pictures of the square:

Although it should be quite a tourist draw, Bardejov seems to lack slightly important tourist facilities like accommodation. Or at least that's how it seemed to us. We did find a very cheap, very damp pension where all four of us (and our associated filth) got to share a room. Hot water only sufficient for two or three showers, vaguely musty aromas, etc., but at least we could store our bikes indoors, take showers, and sleep on beds. Then we headed back into town; some of us went into St Egidius' church to see the impressively preserved 15th century wooden altarpieces (some visible here; I tried taking pictures but it was just too dark). Bardejov is very much worth visiting despite the possible issues related to accommodation. Otherwise we just wandered around the old town, stopping occasionally at one of the many outdoor cafes for a cold drink and a small snack. When it came to dinnertime, well, there wasn't a whole lot of choice. For some reason just about every restaurant in town was a pizza place. We selected one of them and ate our fill of (surprisingly reasonably decent) pizza, slightly less than enjoying the accompanying music (an unholy blend of traditional southern German and Slovakian folk music with a lively techno beat). And then it was off to bed; after the previous night none of us were remotely interested in even thinking about anything considering nightlife.

Distance ridden for the day: 37.2 miles
Time on the bikes for the day: 3:09 (moving time)
Moving average: 11.8mph
Maximum speed: 33mph.

The altitude profile shows that this was a pretty easy day (note the compressed vertical scale compared to previous days):

Total distance for the trip so far: 161.9 miles

Strbske Pleso - Stara Lubovna (Day 4: Poland - Slovakia)

Wed, 27 Sep 2006 13:36:24 GMT

After the previous day's hard ride, it was a little difficult getting started. My knees were quite sore after their abuse on the climbs, but I was buoyed by the promise that a significant part of this ride would be downhill. This was originally planned to be a rest day in Stary Smokovec (possibly including a loop ride to Poprad and the Low Tatras) but we thought it was probably best to press on a little further, thus distributing the next day's ride across two days (a misguided reading of the map suggested that the terrain offered some significant climbs). Once again the weather was beautiful: sunny but rather chilly, so we all started out in long sleeves. Here we are getting ready to set off:

I was quite surprised to note that the promise of "all downhill" was actually true; the next 7-8 miles I didn't need to pedal at all, except to stretch my legs. The main highway was the only way down, but the road surface was quite nice and traffic was light. It was no effort at all getting into Stary Smokovec, which is apparently the Slovakian version of Zakopane. Here's a shot of the Grand Hotel which was our goal the previous night (if it hadn't been dark, we definitely could have reached it):

At this point my knees were still suffering quite a lot, and I felt like it could be quite problematic trying to keep up with the other guys, so an alternative plan was hatched. I would let them ride on to Stara Lubovna (taking a slightly circuitous route to avoid highway traffic which had increased somewhat once we reached Stary Smokovec), and I would continue down the river valley to the town of Spisska Bela where I could catch a train to Stara Lubovna. Here's the last I ever saw of the other guys:

OK, maybe I'd see them a lot sooner than I even expected.

The road to Spisska Bela was still a gradual downhill, with the mountains behind me. I passed quite a few people sitting on the side of the road trying to sell wild mushrooms or heaps of potatoes; quite a sad sight given the tiny amount of traffic along this road. Not long after that I reached a very nice pond/lake where I stopped to soak my legs (and take another picture):

The park adjoining the lake also had a substantial collection of tourist-friendly signage about the local area (including English!), but most importantly for my purposes, a very nicely detailed topographic map of the area, apparently showing that our calculations about the serious hills between Stary Smokovec and Stara Lubovna were entirely incorrect. It seems that we had mistaken shaded areas (depicting forest or park, I believe) for indications of topography, and thus guessed wrong about the direction of flow of the rivers indicated on the map. In fact, it appeared that the route from Strbske Pleso to Stara Lubovna was entirely downhill. Nonetheless, since I was on the outskirts of Spisska Bela, I thought I may as well visit the train station and check out the timetable. As it turns out, Spisska Bela is quite pretty -- a well-off medieval guild town in its day (some history here). Off the main highway there were hardly any cars at all:

There was a tiny train station there, or at least a house where a couple of rail employees were waiting. A train was arriving right as I got there, but going in the wrong direction. I tried asking the employees about the next train towards Stara Lubovna, but neither English or German were useful at all. Fortunately gesturing is always a possibility (point towards Stara Lubovna, point towards my watch with a questioning expression, and offer a pen and piece of paper). She obligingly wrote down the times for the next trains: the very next train would be arriving in a mere three hours' time. Since a number of schoolchildren had started to gather around and were taking quite a bit of interest in me and my bike, I decided I may as well hit the road instead. As it mostly ran parallel to the train tracks, I could always stop and wait for a train if the riding became too difficult. Turns out it didn't, and I continued mostly downward along the river valley (quite scenic all the way)

In this part of Slovakia there are numerous shrines along the way. Some of them large enough that you can probably go inside them for a quick prayer or nap (although I certainly didn't try).

As I cruised along the highway, I passed through a couple more small towns like this one:

and suddenly caught up with the other guys who had stopped for a snack and a drink. As I pulled up on my bike I was handed the remains of an ice-cream bar and an ice-cold Coca-Cola. Seems my pace was a little better than I had anticipated. From there it was a straight shot to Stara Lubovna. We rode around the main square and checked into a nice hotel (apparently the best hotel and the best restaurant in town). After a much needed shower and a spot of shopping (trying to find me a knee support for the remaining rides. Turns out the shop we needed was right next to the hotel, and would reopen at 8am), it was dinner time. We had balcony seats so we could watch the comings and goings of the locals (especially the local teenagers who were busy with the usual sorts of activities involving skateboards, rollerblades and irritated adults). My Slovakian vegetarian specialties (pierogi/haluska/potato pancakes) were tasty but not all that exciting. Once dinner was finished, we decided to check out the nightlife (at least around the town square). A dimly-lit bar offering billiards seemed like a good choice; shooting some pool would be a good diversion. Or so we thought, until the barman obviously misunderstood us, instead turning on the lights for ... THE BOWLING LANE!

It's a version of ninepin bowling: pins laid out in a diamond shape with substantial space between them. Pins were reset after every roll (they had strings attached to their tops for easy resetting). The balls were relatively small and didn't have holes, and the lane didn't have gutters (only rails). As we didn't know the rules, we tried various approaches to knock down the pins, mainly focusing upon the richochet technique off the rails. Only later did the barman explain to us that this is a foul: you score no points if the ball touches a rail. Scoring: apparently if you knock down all nine, you get another go (none of us ever did better than 7). We had a few rounds of incredibly inexpensive beers, and gradually a few of the locals came by to chatter. Mostly in broken German although a couple of them had a bit of English. Of course this kind of socializing has its risks, and soon enough the barman brought us some shots of the local drink (high-octane peach schnapps I believe, clocking in above 50% alcohol). Well, it's a bit difficult to refuse, so we asked him to join us and have one himself as well. Ouch! One of the most unpleasant things that's ever touched my throat. A few more rounds of beers and some more rambling conversations with the locals, and we were ready to go. Or so we thought... we had to face another tray of deadly peach schnapps. We so badly wanted to refuse, and even tried it on. Unthinkable! At least the barman had one himself (again), but I think we were all struggling to keep it down. We rushed to pay our bill (something like £4 or £5 each for loads and loads of drink + an hour of bowling) and get out of there before the dreaded schnapps made another appearance. A quick round of beers at the local hostel and we were definitely ready to return to the hotel and crash.

Distance ridden for the day: 43.8 miles
Time on the bikes for the day: 3:42 (moving time)
Moving average: 11.8mph
Maximum speed: 31mph.

The ride really was downhill all the way:

Total distance for the trip: 124.7 miles

Zakopane - Strbske Pleso (Day 3: Poland - Slovakia)

Fri, 22 Sep 2006 12:17:57 GMT

And here it was, the first day we were actually going to do some real riding. Rather than rushing right off at a suitably early hour, however, we decided to have a relatively leisurely breakfast (including some tall tales from P. and I about our supposed experiences with Zakopane's nightlife) and check out one last cycle shop to see about finding the crucial replacement chain ring. A bit more wild-goose-chasery as MJ went from rental shop #1 to rental shop #2 before finding a real-live supply/repair/workshop type shop. Which didn't open until 10am. So we idled about, hoping an employee would turn up even a little bit early (let me tell you, as a former retail employee myself, we absolutely love it when customers are waiting when we arrive, and demand to have their urgent needs met immediately, ie before the normal pre-opening responsibilities have been completed). It turned out that they didn't have the exact chain ring required, but the mechanic offered to fix an entirely new set of chain rings for approx £30, and do so in an hour. However, as our ride was going to be long, and much of it mountainous, we thought that would be too much of a risk (we weren't reallly equipped with lights, nor prepared to ride unfamiliar mountain roads in the dark even if we had lights). So we hit the road, leaving my bike un-repaired (the plan was to ride on the large front chainring on flats and downhills, the small ring on uphills, and try to keep the switching to a minimum. Switching was at least possible although not smooth. It turned out to be a reasonably-manageable annoyance once I got used to manic shifting when I needed to drop down to low gears).

Our original plan was to take the shorter (east) route from Zakopane to Stary Smokovec, figuring that the ride into Zakopane might have taken too much out of us, so we should keep the most mountainous ride the shortest. But since we took the bus to Zakopane, we figured we may as well take the longer western route around the highest of the High Tatras (basically the shortest way you can get to Stary Smokovec on roads, heading west from Zakopane). Leaving Zakopane the road surfaces were impressively good quality (and had plenty of shoulder space), and the traffic was relatively light once we got out of town. It was a chilly, sunny morning with fresh mountain air and the smell of pine everywhere, and we kept up a nice pace through gently rolling (largely downhill) terrain. We saw numerous cyclists coming the other way; every few minutes you'd hear another "ahoy" despite being well out of Talk Like A Pirate season. Here's what the area looked like:

P. with his Poprad. We would eventually have to negotiate the hills you see in the background...

After not very long at all (surprisingly soon, actually) we reached the Slovakian border, a proper border crossing despite both nations' EU status. The quality of the road surfaces dipped noticeably, and we noticed there was a lot less road traffic. People walking everywhere, quite a few working bicyclists, just the occasional bus or massive truck. We'd already ridden up what I thought were a couple of fairly decent climbs (the first going from about 830m to 950m; the second from about 700m to 950m without any real breaks), but then I saw my first gradient warning sign:

Warning of 12% grade. P. up ahead.

This was a major uphill (at least in my world), the most I've ever climbed at once. Starting about 780m we went right on up to 1120m with only one relatively flat bit about halfway up.

The boys taking pictures and a much needed rest at the scenic overlook.

The scenic overlook itself.

HH getting in the mood to tackle the downhill.

The downhill section that followed was quite an intense experience itself. Just as I haven't climbed many mountains before on the bike, neither have I descended them. And this descent was significantly more than the climb, going from 1120m right down to about 580m including a bunch of hairpin turns and big sweeping downhills. Only a few vehicles, and good road surface (thank goodness) but I sure used up a lot of brake rubber just controlling my speed. Once the road levelled out (and my slight case of the shakes subsided), I stopped and took a picture looking back up the hill:

We were in dire need of nourishment at this point, since we'd gone about 85 kilometers (53 miles) and still had some distance to go. Especially because our various map-based estimates of the total distance seemed to be some 15% under the actual distances as measured on the road. Fortunately we were at the last big town before the High Tatras began in earnest, Liptovsky Mikulas. I can't say too much about Liptovsky Mikulas except that it had a large grocery store in the center of town, which we pillaged for sugary beverages, candy bars, trail mix and water (our first money spent in Slovakia, things seemed to be much cheaper than they were in Poland). We sat in the shade for only a few minutes, gobbling down our fuel for the last little section of the ride.

Liptovsky Mikulas is just full of bicycles; we were quite surprised to see all the bike lanes and people on bikes, even on the highway out of town. But I suddenly realized I was having quite a difficult time: my knees were really suffering (despite gobbling some ibuprofen) as my unfamiliarity with extended uphill rides had led me to use a riding style (pushing rather than spinning) that caused undue stress to the knees. This was quite a problem as we had some significant distance still to go, and sunset fairly quickly approaching. Therefore a change in plan was necessary: MJ gave me his wheel and instructed me to follow as close as possible, thereby giving me a substantial reduction of wind resistance. Quite important since I was the only one riding a mountain bike and thus using a much more upright posture. This went on for a while until we reached the steeper sections of the climb. Through some combination of extreme granny gears and drafting in the aforementioned manner we climbed, and climbed, and climbed. All the time the sun was getting lower and lower:

We switched into our most reflective (and long sleeve) clothing, because it was really starting to get dark, and eventually MJ and I crept into Strbske Pleso, the highest settlement in the High Tatras, having climbed continuously from Liptovsky Mikulas's 580m right on up to 1350m. Although Stary Smokovec was not far at all (and all downhill), we decided it was too dark to continue safely, so we checked into a hotel. All of us, that is, except for P. who had taken the bull by the horns and pressed on ahead into Stary Smokovec (fortunately there was a taxi available, only twenty of your English pounds). The rest of the evening was somewhat of a blur: the hotel was quite nice; MJ bought some really inexpensive bottled beers from a shop (I doubt he spent more than a pound on 8 bottles), and then we went to a restaurant just across the way (seemed like the only place open in the September off-season).

A couple of the guys had a big-heap-o-meat plate (disappointing, I understand) while this time the vegetarian (or vegetarian-ish; just about everything had flavor bits that may have come from living creatures) options were the standouts. Top of the table was a Slovakian garlic soup, very much like French onion soup (croutons, cheese, hearty broth) but with garlic replacing the onions. Just what we needed after such a major ride. I also had halusky, a Slovakian dish much like gnocchi, and some excellent fried potatoes. And I couldn't resist ordering the dish described in the English section of the menu as "Salad with cabbage, onion, tomato, vegetable, mildew and moldy cheese". Turned out to be a very serviceable blue cheese salad. Mmmmmmm good. And that was about it.

Distance ridden for the day: 80.4 miles
Time on the bikes for the day: 7.5 hours (moving time)
Moving average: 10.7mph
Maximum speed: a hair-raising 33.2mph

Total distance for the trip: 80.9 miles

I brought along my GPS (Garmin Etrex Legend) so I also have some interesting data about the contour of the ride:

As you can see we saved the best climb for last.

Krakow - Zakopane (Day 2: Poland - Slovakia)

Wed, 20 Sep 2006 13:45:50 GMT

The next morning we got up, assembled our cycles and then lazed around town until we got word on HH's missing bag. Fortunately we were able to leave all non-necessary items (e.g. bags to take the bikes on the airplane, floor pump, extra set of clean clothes) at the hotel for the duration of our cycle trip. It had been suggested to us that the first section of the Krakow to Zakopane ride would be the least pleasant of our entire trip, mainly due to busy roads getting out of the Krakow sprawl. So we took our cycles to the main square, checked out St. Mary's Basilica (linky. I took a few pictures but my hand wasn't sufficiently steady to post them here), and had a bit of lunch. About 12:30 we got the word: the bag had landed, and would be delivered to our hotel within a couple of hours. We could have spent that time in a fruitless search for a cycle shop that was open on Sunday, but instead we lazed around in the park a while longer. By the time the bag arrived, we had decided it was too late in the day to make a possibly-unpleasant, entirely-uphill ride to an unfamiliar town where we had not yet secured accommodation. Fortunately, we had been told that it wouldn't be a problem to take the bikes on one of the quite-frequent buses to Zakopane. So we rode on over to the bus station, where we found a Zakopane-bound bus ready to depart.

There was quite a crowd of people already starting to board, many of them with heaps of luggage. But we opened up the luggage doors and found that there was possibly enough room for the bikes, if we were really clever and stacked them in pairs. As we started doing this, the surly driver came out and began berating us in Polish. The only words we understood were "stop" and "no". So we started pulling the bikes back out, only to find that he was actually ok with the bikes, as long as we didn't damage or dirty other passengers' luggage. But he was in an extreme hurry to leave, so we'd better get moving if we wanted to be on the bus (or at least, this is how we interpreted the situation). It was an absolutely frantic scramble as we removed wheels and bags, and carefully/quickly jammed them into the small spaces available (as MJ put it, good thing none of us are precious about our bikes). And the bus was rather raggedy but we took up seats at the back and cruised to Zakopane in style (and only about two hours).

Upon arriving we unloaded our bikes, put them back together and leisurely cruised into town. Zakopane is the highest town in Poland, and as the gateway to the Tatras it's a serious tourist town. We checked into a nice, inexpensive hotel at the top of the main pedestrian drag where we could lock up our bikes, and got ready to check out the town.

The view from our hotel balcony: Looking south toward the High Tatras

Another view in the direction we'd be heading in the morning (actually this was taken in the morning; apologies to you continuity pedants).

Wooden houses just off the main street

Tourist action on the main drag. We did wander up and down the main street a couple of times looking for bike shops (recall that my broken chainring had still not been replaced). Zakopane is a very sporty town and quite well equipped with bike shops, as it turns out, but nothing was still open at that time of the evening. No worries, we decided to check it out in the morning. We passed quite a few dodgy vendors (selling cheap binoculars, smoked sheep cheese, single roses, and all the typical cheap tat you find people selling on the main drags of tourist towns) and then we saw it:

When we walked by this crowded restaurant with rows of open-flame grills and mountains of meat everywhere you looked, our dinner venue was decided. I'm a bit of a pescetarian but was egged on into trying just a little something:

(Photo sent by one of my traveling companions to Mrs. Dunce with the title "Busted!"). Well, I can definitely say that the horseradish sauce, mustard, and barbecue sauces were quite nice. Not so sure about the kielbasa, though. Afterwards we headed back to the hotel. Upon getting there, P. and I realized the night was young, so bidding our traveling companions good night, we decided to sneak right back out to the main drag. Things had quieted down substantially but we found a nice bar where some musicians were playing a sort of fiddle-and-accordion-based distant cousin to bluegrass. As we hadn't tasted much variety in beer, we ordered a couple of the different choices from the menu. P chose the Okocim Karmi, and I the Okocim Mocne. Little did we know that the former was a non-alcoholic beverage, and the latter a super-strong (7.1%). Oops. Anyway, no harm done and a couple rounds later, the lights went up and we headed back up the hill to the hotel. Except that just around the corner, we were drawn into a huge, empty nightclub, full of attendants and staff but with no more than 15 customers. I'm sure it's busier in the high season, or on a weekend, but on a September Sunday night it was a strange and eerie place. Here's a picture of me out on the dance floor (I should note this was as busy as the dance floor ever became):

And then it was off to bed, ready to ride in the morning.
Total distance ridden for the day: 0.5 miles (slow ride into Zakopane)
Total time on the bikes: approx 5 minutes.
Total distance for the trip: 0.5 miles
Maximum speed: 12 mph.

But tomorrow would be different.

Krakow (Day 1: Poland-Slovakia)

Tue, 19 Sep 2006 12:28:06 GMT

Our journey started at the ungodly hours between 3 and 4am as we had to be on a 3:55 train to reach the airport the designated 2.5 hours before departure to Krakow. For future reference it's no problem to fit two loaded cycle bags and various other assorted gear in a black cab. The 2.5 hour flight to Krakow was uneventful, except that when we arrived, one of the bags hadn't made it onto the plane (all the bikes had arrived, but HH's bag containing everything else had been left behind). We were told to expect the bag on the next flight (same time the next day), so we crossed our fingers and made the requisite comments of sympathy and solidarity whilst secretly being pleased that our own bags had arrived. We stayed at the Hotel Polonia, right in the old town and very close to the train/bus station.

But we couldn't sit around and enjoy the town just yet; we had a mission. You see, I experienced various difficulties related to preparing my bicycle for the journey. The touring bike I planned to take was not suitably geared for mountainous terrain, and it seemed to have a fairly obscure rear freehub for which replacement cassettes with very low gears are not readily available. After some various attempts to solve the problem (Replace the cassette? Not readily available. Get a new wheel? 27" wheels aren't readily available around here either, and I'd have to replace both front and back, plus tires and possibly brakes. Get a new front chainring of a "granny gear" variety? Still wouldn't suffice, would necessitate replacing the whole front setup. And so on) it was decided that instead I would borrow MJ's mountain bike, geared quite low, with a rack and reasonably well suited to touring. However, a few days before departure MJ opined that the rear rim was very close to failure (after having a similar rim failure on his own bike) so he had a new wheel built, with a new rear cluster and a fresh chain. This was only ready the day before departure, and as I took it out for a test ride, I discovered that the middle chainring on the front was so worn as to be unridable (this will often happen when a fresh new chain is put onto a worn ring: the old chain will be cruddy enough that it doesn't slip). The large and small chainrings were ok, but this causes some problems in the area of seamless gear-shifting. Anyway, after some panicked attempts to disassemble other bikes to scavenge an appropriate part (which didn't work out, due to differences in sizing and so on), we ended up in Krakow with the bike still un-repaired. Surely there will be a cycle shop in Krakow, we thought (after all, there were loads of cyclists around). Armed with the Polish word for cycle ("rower") we set off on a wild goose chase to a few cycle rental shops near the old town (no parts/service departments), one of which actually appeared to be a wheelchair/prosthetics shop, before finally piling into a taxi to get a "real" bike shop. Being Saturday, of course it had closed by the time we got there. And of course would not re-open until Monday. So we decided I should make do with the gears on the bike for now, and gave up the quest for the day.

After a very much needed nap, we headed back out for a cold one, some coffee and some snacks (assorted pierogis, herring, + strange smoked cheese curd, "oscypki"), hanging out in one of the zillions of outdoor cafes, doing some people-watching and (for three of us) still secretly being glad we had a change of clothes. For dinner we headed over to Pod Aniolami (recommended by a local!). Located in an ancient building, they focus especially upon very traditional dishes taken from centuries-old cookbooks. The carnivores in our group couldn't help but go for the hardwood-smoked grilled meat dishes ("Nobleman's shashlik, pork roasted in wine with prunes" or "King's shashlik, pork with bacon"); I had a hickory-grilled mackerel with a very tasty horseradish sauce, dill potatoes and baked apple. Plus the most amazing fried pierogi (of the Russian variety, ie cheese and potatoes). Such a heap of food, but we figured it would be a good base for the next day's riding (assuming the bag showed up soon enough). Perhaps the best meal we had on the whole trip.

Total distance ridden for the day: 0.0 miles
Total time on the bikes: 0:00
Total distance for the trip: 0.0 miles
Maximum speed: 0.

Oh yeah, don't worry that there are no photos on this post. This will be remedied in the next entries.

Back in business!

Mon, 18 Sep 2006 10:53:16 GMT

Well, I'm back at work now after the major cycling holiday in Poland and Slovakia. As I expected, I'm swamped so I don't have the time to write complete entries just yet. But here are a few of the main details:
5 days riding: we took a bus to Zakopane, then rode the next day to Strbske Pleso (highest settlement in the High Tatras, ~1350m above sea level); Strbske Pleso to Stara Lubovna (downhill all the way); Stara Lubovna to Bardejov; Bardejov to Nowy Sacz; Nowy Sacz to a train station east of Krakow. A total of 260 miles in just under 24 hours moving time.

Here's one picture to give you an idea: descending from Strbske Pleso with the High Tatras in the background:

(photo by MJ, his ride reports can be found on the roadbikereview.com forums HERE, registration required)

The great helmet debate

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 09:38:50 GMT

I've recently noticed a major increase in the number of London cyclists who have taken the middle ground on the helmet debate. Rather than wearing their helmets all the time, these people have apparently decided to bring their helmet along, not wearing it but keeping it accessible by hanging it from a handlebar. Presumably this is so that, in the event of a predictable accident, the helmet is accessible enough that the well-prepared rider can put it on before crashing and landing on his/her head. And even if the accident is unpredictable, there is a nonzero chance that the rider's head will land on the helmet, preventing it (the head) from cracking like an egg. Now the only question is which handlebar is the better choice for your helmet.

Tour de France

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 12:08:29 GMT

I've been paying quite a bit of attention to the Tour de France this year. Every evening there's one hour of TV coverage summarizing the day's events, but really I'm most enjoying the various information available online. In addition to your run-of-the-mill live text coverage and radio coverage in an assortment of languages (all available through cyclingfans.com>), this year it's also possible to see real-time telemetry for some riders (LIVE LINK>; some previous races). This includes live heart rate, cadence, speed and power output (more information about it available here). It's especially interesting to see a rider's heart rate and power output shoot through the roof as he goes up a climb. I've also found it interesting to check out the real-time fluctuation in betting as a given stage comes to a close. Betfair.com> operates very much in real time, and on last Friday's stage there was a four-man breakaway, running far enough ahead it became quite clear that one of the four would win. Each time one of the four made an attack, you could see his odds drop rapidly as punters started throwing heaps of money on him to win. Not just the stage, but you could also see the odds to win the entire Tour fluctuating as well. It could make a lot of sense to keep an eye on the telemetry to help make these high-speed, real-time betting judgments. Except there are not so many riders for whom live data are available, and they are not exactly in the hunt for the win:

58. Voigt, no odds available to win the Tour. Currently 40min 50sec off the lead (although he did win stage 13)
59. Martinez (can back him to win the Tour on Betfair at 1000-1)
69. Ventoso
76. Lang (can back him to win on Betfair at 1000-1)
77. Padrnos
85. Vasseur
93. Scholz
96. Grabsch
117. Zberg
142. Tankink

Anyway I'll certainly enjoy having assorted real-time information at my disposal. Until I can see them riding in person when next year's Tour visits the UK.

Riding the bike more? A year on

Fri, 07 Jul 2006 10:05:19 GMT

It's one year since the London bombings, and numerous members of the media have descended upon the area where I work, right by Tavistock Square, just up the road from Russell Square (my blog entry from the day is here). Guys with very fancy camera rigs and other guys with laptops are everywhere (I say "guys" because women seem quite underrepresented), and a helicopter overhead is massively disrupting my attention span at the moment (explaining why I'm writing this entry first thing instead of my customary just-after-lunch blog-break where I take advantage of the extra "lunch time" gained by staying at my desk and wolfing my lunch in a couple of minutes).

There are loads of police officers around the area, so I was a bit more careful to stop for red lights than I normally am*. So it wasn't much of a surprise at all that I was approached by a journalist in search of a unique angle on "London Bombings: One Year On". I was asked almost exactly the same question that I was asked by some other journalist on 11 July last year. Then: "After the events of last week do you find you're cycling more?" Now: Have you been cycling more since the events of last July 7th?". No, I still haven't. He also asked whether I've noticed more cyclists on the road (or on the other hand, am I completely oblivious that the number of cyclists has doubled since 2000). My answer may have reflected my frustration with so many confused cyclists (usually of the fair-weather sort who ride dangerously and without paying attention to anyone else on the roads (or pavements)**, "Yes, I think a lot of people have and you'd think they'd bloody learn the rules of the road by now." I have no idea where the word "bloody" came from, and I fear this comment (if heard, which is unlikely) will be misconstrued as a strictly anti-red-light-jumping statement where my intent was really just "they should learn to pay attention and ride sensibly".

*Red light jumping is one of those issues that makes people crazy. Just use the word "red" in any cycling forum and you'll see what I mean. I am definitely a red light jumper, but a cautious one in that I watch closely for any crossing traffic, and always give pedestrians the right-of-way when they have an indicator (green man) or are in a zebra crossing. Yes it's definitely against the law to do this, and I'll stand up and take my fine if I get caught doing it (as in, if anyone starts enforcing it). See also things like jaywalking, speeding, parking without paying, assault and battery, murder (pro-red-light-jumpers tend to use the first three as examples of crimes that are a matter of personal decisions; the anti faction like to bring in the latter as the sort of thing unrestrained red light jumping will no doubt bring as we all throw respect for the law into the gutter). Anyway that's all to say my own personal preference is to disregard certain traffic ordinances while still remaining a good citizen of the road when it comes to my fellow road users (not just giving people the right of way, but also courtesy waves, eye contact and so on). This is probably an indication of my own personal philosophy as well, but frankly I don't have the time or inclination to expand on that.

**I've got no gripes against people who choose to ride their bikes only when it's nice out. It's just that it takes a while to get a good sense of the road, the flow of traffic and how to ride effectively in a way that minimizes your interference with other traffic.

An unexpected extended silence over in these parts

Tue, 04 Jul 2006 12:21:08 GMT

No, I didn't decide to take on bike thieves single-handed, ending up in the hospital or worse.
No, I haven't been spending every spare moment training for a mountain bike journey.*
Instead there's been quite a conspiracy of external factors that have pretty much wiped out the time I would ordinarily spend on blog entries. I had a couple of (work-related) visitors from sunny California (and the crunch-time work associated with their visits). And a couple of minor sporting events that have drawn my attention in a somewhat predictably obsessive way (World Cup, and now the Tour de France). And this year's journey to renowned music festival Tapestry Goes West (perhaps deserving its own entry, although I fear I'll end up writing more about buying loads of books in Hay, and watching England v. Portugal in a rugby-preferred pub in Port Talbot, Wales, then about the festival itself). And all sorts of work-related work that has somehow found itself all plopping onto my desk at once. Surely this will all evaporate soon.

*Although I have been doing a lot of investigation about the possibility of improving my touring bike's gear ratio for mountain climbing. It seemed like a fairly simple process to upgrade the rear cluster to an 8-speed (currently six), although I would need to obtain a new wheel with a slightly longer axle. Too bad the bike is of a retro style, most notably with 27" wheels which are not exactly easy to find in this day and age (the 700c is now standard). Switching wheels to 700c... well first of all it would probably require switching both front and back (additional cost) + tires for both. And it also seems I'd need to change the brakes as the current ones aren't very adjustable (when it comes to wheel diameter). So it seems I may be returning to my original plan: just putting on a different 6-speed cluster on the rear, one that has a serious granny gear. Plenty of wasted time getting to this conclusion, though.

In broad daylight

Thu, 22 Jun 2006 14:03:52 GMT

Yesterday at lunchtime I was leaving my office with a small group of co-workers, and saw myself a curious sight. Three young gentlemen of the bike thief persuasion, wandering around the area. I had a feeling they were up to no good just by looking at them: two were on bikes, one on foot and all proceeding in a very casual, wandery sort of way. The odd thing was that the one on foot was wearing a pair of heavy looking work gloves (with shorts and a t-shirt). I sort of hung back to see what they were up to, and not much at all to my surprise they were up to no good. Two of them stopped their bikes at the side of the street, while the third went over to the railings and began to tie his shoe in the sort of manner you adopt when you're not at all actually interested in tying your shoe. Suddenly he had moved over just a couple of steps and began aggressively whacking (or something) at the lock on a mountain bike which was secured to the railing (correctly locked through wheels and frame, with double locks no less). I made a sort of approach and made some noises (perhaps a shout, it's hard to remember exactly) and just like that they wandered away (no doubt to find another bike nearby to work on). I figured they hadn't managed to steal the bike, and what more could I do (try to get into the building and ask around whose bike it was). So I felt really guilty when I returned later in the day and that bike wasn't there any longer (fortunately it was there again today; the owner or an associate must have seen the action and moved it inside to be safe).

I felt like I should have done something more, but what? Try to find a phone and call the police, when they were long gone and my description would have been very vague (three scrawny white kids in shorts and t-shirts, two of them on possibly stolen bikes)? Or university security (don't make me laugh)? Or charged in and attacked them (I felt like this is what I should have done, but wasn't carrying any sort of weapon besides the various parts of my body that are registered as deadly weapons)? Or maybe just followed them around to make them nervous? Instead I chose to continue on to lunch (and fret about whether I should have sawed off their legs or something).

Anyway, I was very surprised at their nerve, doing this in broad daylight, while loads of people were walking by (and seeming to ignore their antics completely). It's not really a surprise then that so many bikes disappear, and it makes me even more pleased that my workplace has a good quality off-street bike parking area where the bikes are not even visible to passersby.

Hill training

Mon, 19 Jun 2006 15:54:11 GMT

Yesterday I went with a couple of other guys on a bike ride intended to provide us with some much-needed training for our September journey to the High Tatras in south Poland and north Slovakia. We're finding it a little difficult to get a really good sense of what the roads are like, other than "mountainous". The small snippets of information we are able to find do not exactly leave me brimming with confidence, as they tend to feature numerous impressive climbs several kilometers in length, and when the area is depicted in with distance on the x-axis and altitude on the y-axis it looks even more frightening. Also just about all we have been able to find focuses upon the immediate areas of Zakopane> and Stary Smokovec which pretty much just covers the first two (riding) days of our trip. And mainly that we will be climbing a really impressive mountain to cross the border between Poland and Slovakia (something like going from elevation of ~600m to 1250m over the course of 40km. In feet and miles, I think that's a few miles up, over the course of a few hundred miles. At least, that's what my legs will feel like).

Of course there's no shortage of information about our next stop, Bardejov, another Bardejov site> (an impressively preserved medieval guild town which like other preserved> medieval towns saw its importance waning after the 16th century or so, thus leaving it preserved for the usual reasons of the expense of modernization and the relative unimportance in a warfare sort of sense. My activities there may involve some scoping out for a future journey with Mrs. Dunce who also has a great interest in that sort of place), but I've found nothing relevant to the cycle journey (e.g. just how nasty the hills are). And for our last main stop, Nowy Sacz> ("The Tuscany of Poland"), there doesn't seem to be a whole lot of anything in English, much less a detailed description of the roads between Bardejov and there. Or between there and Krakow, other than the fact that it's in the middle of the Beskid Mountains which suggests that riding around there will be no picnic.

Aaaaaanyway, back to yesterday's ride. Because of the above, some of us have decided it would be a really good idea to get in some hill riding, operating under the logic that no matter what the mountain roads are like, it cannot hurt us to practice on some hills steeper than those available to us on our London commutes. So together with my psycho Texan lawyer friend Jason, I was up bright and early yesterday morning, cruising through the refreshingly empty streets of a London Sunday morning (less empty than you'd think, though), and rushing onto the train to Guildford that was departing that very moment. We met up with Gus, a local guy and friend of Jason's who promised a route that would put us through our paces. And we were not disappointed; there were some impressively steep climbs, and loads and loads of guys on road bikes, obviously in the hills for the same sort of reasons we were (you don't ordinarily see many road bikes at all around London. I guess they're all up in them thar hills)*. It was impressively/oppressively hot and muggy, I'm not sure exactly how hot but certainly in the mid 80s/high 20s. I also played around with using the GPS as a secondary navigation device (Gus being the primary navigation device). It was quite handy especially once I set one of the active displays to show the elevation, that way I could tell exactly how badly I was suffering (a handy secondary measure being the frequency of gasping). The only drawbacks were on some of the hills (cut into stone) with heavy tree canopies where I lost the signal for (a total of) more than a mile. Fortunately these conditions also protected me from the sun, but I still managed to get a nice English tan (red, red, red, ouch. I had a tube of sun cream with me, but left it in the bag where it would be safe). I ended up clocking just over 60 miles (including a dozen or so in London riding to and from the train station). One thing that became quite evident is that the gearing of my bike is not at all well suited for significantly hilly territory (my lowest gear being 37-23 at the moment). Although there was only one hill I wasn't able to finish, had to get off and walk the last 20-30 meters. But the other guys were suffering on it as well. Ah well, there are plans afoot to improve my gearing situation in the near future. By the time I got home, though, I wasn't much use for anything. Except as a salt lick for the lucky cat, and I was too tired to shoo her away.

Jason's report of the trip, with photos

*I see that the local cycle club of Godalming (near Dorking), has a really nice list of road routes in the area. In case I want something similar but in a different environment. But I'll probably do exactly the same route next time I want to taste some hills; I've marked the route in detail on my GPS so I can duplicate it exactly if I wish.

Serious cycling ahead

Tue, 02 May 2006 12:12:47 GMT

At the end of summer, I will be joining a few friends on a small bike ride: flying into Krakow, from whence we will head southward, towards the High Tatras in Slovakia, eventually reaching Stary Smokovec before looping back to Krakow. The plan at the moment is slow steady long days in mountains, 60-80 miles per day, and staying in hotels/B&Bs so we don't have to carry camping gear. It seems like quite a difficult ride: any mountain range that includes the word "High" in its name is bound to be threatening, and pictures of the area seem to give the same impression. And at least according to this map the most significant mountains seem to be between Poland and Stary Smokovec.

Now I'm a true flatland boy, and while it's an exaggeration to say that the highest elevation I've ever cycled was a highway overpass (readers in the know will already be aware that the Kokomo, Indiana metro area does not offer many overpass options), the closest I've been to mountain cycling is flying over the Appalachians with my bike in the luggage compartment. Or, riding in the rolling hills west of Madison, Wisconsin. Not quite the same as real mountain riding, that's for sure. Oddly enough, I'm not so concerned about having enough stamina for the climbs: I've been gradually increasing my mileage and trying to find uphill stretches wherever I can (and also planning on doing at least a little training on some "real hills" somewhere away from London). Instead, it's the downhills that worry me most: even on minor downhills I find myself clutching the brakes as if they're trying to escape. Of course this may be a product of riding in and near London: within the built-up sections there's almost always a road crossing, a line of traffic, a construction zone, a small family crossing the road without looking or some other hazard; in the surrounding countryside it's quite typical to find a speeding driver taking his half of the road in the middle. So I'm quite anxious about getting used to riding downhill without squeezing the brakes until they melt and/or my hands turn into cramped claws.

In the meantime, perhaps I will start working on my Polish vocabulary which at the moment is only a handful of words mostly referring to foodstuffs (an ad for Chicago's Czerwone Jabluszko [Red Apple] Polish all-you-can-eat buffet really belongs here). Somehow I doubt the online Polish translator will be very useful on the road. But just in case I've prepared a few useful phrases, even though the online translation may not be very accurate at all:

You can have my bicycle. Please don't kill me.
Wy mozecie miec mój bicykl. Prosze nie zabija mnie.

Thank you for your kindness, but I cannot drink any more.
Dziekuja za wasza dobrotliwosc, ale JA nie moze pic wiecej.

Have you heard of Vanilla Ice?
Ma wy wysluchaliscie Vanilla Ice?

Those should pretty much cover it.

a spring cycle ride

Mon, 27 Mar 2006 11:33:51 GMT

Saturday was really the first day of Spring, as the weather had suddenly shot up from just-above-freezing to well into the teens (C, ie, ~60F). So it was nice to take a bike ride without loads of layers. In order to avoid loads of pedestrians and wobbly rusty bicycles on the riverside paths, I headed north through some lovely urban landscapes, which at least featured decent cycle lanes which were separated from the busy road. Since I didn't bring my camera this time, I'll have to rely on overhead imagery from Google Maps. First, a nice overhead view illustrating the urban landscape, complete with cycle lane (the light red path just to the right of the north-south road). And the kind of scenery you see a lot of: filtration pools, giant muffin tins, and freight yards. It's actually pretty nice to ride in these areas on the weekend because there's so little traffic around the industrial zones (excepting the giant shopping mecca which includes a huge 24-hour Tesco and an Ikea). Especially when you're heading north, being propelled by a brisk (~15-20mph) south wind (experienced cyclists will note that there could be a flaw in this logic). After not so long, however, the cycle lane just plain ended.

Rather than join the throngs of cars on the major highway, I decided to backtrack a bit, then rode about a half mile east where I joined the familiar towpath along the River Lea. There were far fewer pedestrians and rusty, wobbly cycles than I had worried, possibly because the weather looked vaguely threatening. So it was a very pleasant, rather undisturbed ride. I was also far enough north that the riverside environment was much less industrial, featuring instead sights like canal locks, farms, and, er, an army of giant insectlike robots ready to invade London. At this point (well outside of the M25, north of Waltham Abbey), the Lea Valley Park opened up, with loads of paths wandering around the various manmade lakes. Some were (mostly) paved, others were muddy and sandy. Fortunately they were wide enough that a rather deranged cyclist could share them with assorted birdwatchers without any physical contact. I should note here that cyclists seem to be the mortal enemies of birdwatchers, but fortunately the latter are a peaceful sort, limiting their signs of displeasure to tutting and shaking their heads disapprovingly.

At this point I'd gone about 14 miles (in not quite an hour; an excellent pace for city riding), and decided it was time to turn back. Suddenly I realized the error of my ways as I was riding straight into the blustery south wind that had brought the springtime weather and made my northward ride so easy. A mountain bike does not exactly offer many possibilities for minimizing head-on wind resistance, and for a few moments I considered heading off course towards the nearest train station and taking the easy way home. Eventually my miserly tendencies won out over fatigue, and I continued on my not-so-merry way. I decided to stick to the canal/riverside path which seemed the most direct and the most sheltered from the wind (the latter may have just been dead wrong, as the river seemed to channel the wind rather than diverting or blocking it.). My pace on the return was just below 10mph, and my legs had turned to jelly by the time I made it home. A mere fifteen minutes before the skies really opened up.

single speed cycle irritation

Tue, 21 Feb 2006 14:30:10 GMT

As I've mentioned before, my commuting bike is a nice single speed mountain bike. One of the main issues with single speed bikes is maintaining chain tension, as a loose chain is liable to hop right off the chainring whenever you hit a bump. On a typical multispeed bike, tension is provided by a derailleur (or "derailer") which uses a pulley system to keep the chain tight. With single speed bikes, though, such a complicated system is not needed as the derailleur's main function is to provide tension across a wide variety of gears. On some single-speed bikes, chain tension is adjusted by moving the back wheel forward or backward; this is only possible if the bike frame has horizontal dropouts. Another possibility (most often used on bikes that are converted from multi-speed use) is to use a very simplified version of a derailleur: a single spring-loaded pulley that holds a loose-ish chain tight; the Singleator is probably the best known example. My bike, instead, has yet another system for keeping the chain tight. Instead of moving the back wheel, or taking up the slack on the chain itself, the only remaining option is to move the drive chainring (ie, the one attached to the crank & pedal) forward or back. This is done using an odd gadget called the "eccentric bottom bracket":

A normal bottom bracket has a circular surface, and the drive mechanism (axle, bottom bracket, whatever you want to call it) goes right through its center. As you can see from the picture above, however, the eccentric bottom bracket has an elliptical surface and the drive mechanism is offset from the center. This allows adjustment of the chain tension by rotating the bottom bracket, causing it (along with the chainring, pedals etc) to move forward or backward (there is also likely to be an issue of vertical displacement: as there are two positions that provide appropriate tension [unless it's at the maximum or minimum distance]. Rider's choice whether to go high or low). It's crucial that this mechanism be tightly fastened in place, otherwise it'll lose tension. And that's what's happened to me: somehow it loosened just a little bit during my normal commuting activities. And all of a sudden I had to take extra care to make sure the chain didn't hop off whenever I hit a bump. Not such an easy challenge as there are many, many bumps (speed humps, flawed road surfaces, construction zones, various obstacles). It's possible to achieve suitable tension by never coasting (always keeping forward pressure on the pedals, using the front chainring to keep the chain on) but this is quite a hassle. No problem, I thought. I'd just adjust the tension, quite easily done with this setup. As pictured above, you first release the mechanism using an Allen wrench, then use a specialized tool (a pin spanner, which I have) to rotate the unit. Get the correct tension and tighten it back down, easy as pie.

Easy as pie, that is, as long as your 4mm Allen bolt is in pristine condition. Somehow, it appears that my 4mm Allen bolt has become rather decrepit, or to put it more specifically, stripped. OK maybe it didn't find itself magically stripped by the bolt-stripping pixies, but through my brutish handling of the Allen wrench which quickly illustrated the geometric relationship between a hexagon and a circle both with radius n. I'm still mulling my choices, whether I admit defeat and take it to my LBS (local bike shop), or take the macho approach: try and drill the remains of the bolt out myself without destroying the rest of the bottom bracket and/or the frame. I can see the latter option degenerating into a situation in which the bike is entirely reduced to scrap, there's a sizable hole in the wall and/or floor, I'm bleeding profusely from hands and arms, and my hair is on fire. Anyway, I've spent too long writing about this, now I'm off to find the drill.

Bike parking facilities

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 12:21:39 GMT

I will soon be moving into a new office, moving from a nasty concrete monstrosity into a lovely Georgian building that is being remodeled to house a research centre. In theory, there will be a substantial improvement as there is a dedicated area for bicycle parking, surely an improvement over my present situation: a choice between crowding my bike into my tiny office:

or locking it to the Bike-Thief Buffet outside the building (not just bike thieves, but also vandals and the low sort of saboteurs who will stoop to removing quick-release skewers from the wheels of properly locked bikes):

The new building, instead, has two old wine cellars that extend from a basement courtyard under the pavement (sidewalk), and the centre director has wisely reserved these spaces for bicycle parking. However, the proposed parking solution fell somewhat short, and in a meeting yesterday I volunteered to make suggestions for improvements that would actually suit cyclists. The arrangement looks somewhat like this:

The solid rectangle (above) depicts the courtyard area, viewed from above. A gate at street level leads down the stairs into the courtyard. The wine cellar/bicycle parking areas are about 3m deep, but only about 2m wide. They are currently empty, and are "secured" by fairly solid wire/metal doors. The only light is a fixture in the courtyard. The idea, I suppose, is that cyclists can park in the cellars and secure their bikes by keeping the door locked. This is a good start, but doesn't protect against internal theft (another person with access to the bike areas decides to have a bike upgrade), or external theft (someone breaks the combination lock and walks off with whatever they like), mainly because there is nothing to secure a bike to. There's also nothing to lean a bike on, except for the early risers who can lean their bikes against the walls.

One possibility is that I should just avoid parking in the insecure area, and just bring my filthy commuting bike into my new office. The new office with brand-new carpet and fresh paint, that is, which is four floors up by stairs (again, newly carpeted and freshly painted). On the other hand, how can I be evangelistic about cycle commuting if I practice a parking regimen that only a lunatic and/or martyr would consider? So more practical solutions are in order.

Obviously the first step is to install some kind of rack or fixture to which bikes can be locked. Any such fixture must allow the frame of the bike to be locked to it; there is a remarkable range of wheel-only bike racks which are useless from a security standpoint. Perhaps most ideal would be a row of Sheffield stands so that each bike could be secured to a stand, parked in a row facing the back of the cellar. But the building is listed and it's unclear whether any sort of drilling/mounting solution would be permitted. It's also unclear (to me) what the ideal spacing between stands would be. Another possibility would be a stand-alone bike rack such as a traditional single-face bike rack. Anyone who could carry such a rack out of the space, with bicycles attached, could probably not be stopped by any means. It seems difficult, however, to find such a rack of suitable dimensions (most seem to be 10' long or longer). In addition, it's necessary to have some lighting installed in the cellars, and to ensure that their doors are locked with quality locks. Combinations have a way of circulating, but this problem is minimized if bikes are also locked to a fixture inside.

So that's bike storage sorted (hopefully). If only the facilities for cyclists themselves were better. The building has a bathroom on the top floor. Which would be really nice as filthy cyclists arriving at work could get cleaned up first. Except that there's no shower, only a bathtub. I'm not so sure about a leisurely soak in the tub at work.

Lycra louts

Fri, 06 Jan 2006 15:18:54 GMT

Usually my cycle journey between home and work is peaceful and relatively pleasant, with only rare instances of minor irritation (for example, cold, heavy rain or people attacking cyclists). Recently, however, I faced one of the greatest obstacles faced by the cycle commuter: the self-righteous bicyclist. Cyclistus officius, often spotted on Web forums and transportation discussion groups, has very strong opinions on the way cyclists should ride their bicycles, and more importantly, feels obligated to harangue anyone who disagrees. Such individuals can often be identified in the UK by their frequent references to the Highway Code and pedantic attention to violations of such. Now I too share their frustration when it comes to certain types of reckless cycling, especially where it endangers pedestrians (riding on pavements [UK for "sidewalks"], failing to yield at a zebra crossing, failing to stop at red lights when pedestrians have the right of way, failing to use lights at night) and/or other cyclists (riding erratically, dangerous overtaking, failing to stop at red lights when other cyclists have the right of way, failing to use lights at night again). But I don't mind a wide assortment of minor infractions such as disregarding a red light when it is safe to do so, stopping ahead of the "designated stopping area" (often occupied by a motor vehicle, itself in blatant disregard of the law), or riding outside of a marked bike lane (especially when parked cars are too close). Or the particular infraction I was committing the other evening on my ride home.

This time of year it's completely dark when I leave work, so my bike is equipped with some lights. A bright white light on the front, a red light on the rear, and two additional red lights on my shoulder bag (all of which are usually on a "flash" setting, which I believe is not technically legal in the UK). Unfortunately, the front light began to run out of juice, suddenly dimming until it was light no more. I pulled over right away and affixed one of my red lights to the front of the bike, so that I would remain visible from the front. A few blocks later, however, I heard a shout at my shoulder. I thought it was a friend of mine who has been known to cycle and shout (he may or may not believe that commuters who ride without mudguards on rainy days should die painful deaths), but when I turned to look, it was a stranger. A stranger, but clearly an excellent specimen of Cyclistus officius. He had sped up to get my attention, in order to harangue me for my illegal and dangerous riding. It seems that I was using a red light on the front of my bicycle, instead of the legally-required white light. Such offenses (he continued) should be punished by points on the offender's driving license. I am afraid my composure slipped slightly, as I called him a stupid idiot, and pointed out that I do not hold a "driving license". (Well, perhaps I do hold a "driver's license" from the fine state of Florida, but I do not believe the Florida DMV has a reciprocal agreement with some anal-retentive London cyclist). He started to say something else (from my own experience with other Cyclistus officius, I suspect it would have been from a manifesto requiring that all individuals be required to obtain some sort of cycling license before being permitted on public thoroughfares), but my mature response "blah blah blah" was enough to make him shake his head in sorrow at me, yet another cyclist who is making all cyclists look bad. And with that he dropped his speed back to whatever his normal pace might be, and drifted off behind me as I headed the rest of the way home.

It was such a surprise to me that someone would make such an effort to scold me (he definitely had to ride faster than his normal pace to catch up to me), when clearly I was doing what I could to make myself visible on the road. I hadn't violated any other rules of the road, and in fact there was a "legal" lighting unit mounted on my handlebars (although I had not pointed it out to him, choosing instead to say "blah blah blah"). By the time I got home, I wished someone had knocked him off his bike with a big stick.

How I avoid unnecessary travel

Fri, 30 Dec 2005 14:19:59 GMT

Today's headlines shout "Coldest day in 19 years" as temperatures as low as -10C were reported in parts of the UK, and travelers are again suggested to avoid all unnecessary travel as the winter storms are due to continue today. So of course I decided to put on my layers and ride my bike to the lab to get some work done. After all, it was above freezing (1 C), and the rain was only heavy at times (and I couldn't tell that there was a 25-30mph wind until I was out in it). And the rain only got harder as I rode. Not being entirely equipped with rain gear (only my jacket and shoulder bag are waterproof), I got drenched pretty much instantly (even though I have installed fenders on my bike as a good cycle-commuting citizen). Fortunately I had enough layers that I stayed warm (thanks mainly to the Remington ninja costume I was wearing under my layers), and a small bit of foresight meant that I had some dry clothing waiting for me in the office. To conserve energy over the holiday period (the university is technically shut until January 2) all heating has been turned off; fortunately I was able to scavenge a space heater from a colleague's office, which (the heater, not the office) is now surrounded by damp clothing, giving a lovely steam-bath air to the office. By the time I head for home, my clothes will be dry enough that I can put them on, until I soak them again within minutes of going out the door.

Other than me, there are no signs of life in the building (most university staff seem to be taking full advantage of the official closure), so it's been a good opportunity to get a lot of work done without interruption or disruption. The nasty weather also meant that I was able to sneak into a very public space¹ (Be warned, the footnote may contain geocaching spoilers) to find another geocache. I've known about this one for quite some time (and have even seen it!), but there always seem to be lots of people in its immediate vicinity so I have been unable to complete my visit by signing the logbook. Today was different: the driving rain and cold temperatures meant that even the most hardened bench-sitters had gone somewhere else, so I was able to finish finding the cache and mark the logbook. Now I'm back in the lab with a hot cup of coffee and just a few more things to finish (and just a few more items of clothing to dry) before the journey home. At least the wind will be (mostly) at my back (if the local weather station is to be trusted).

^<1>The location deserves its own entry, not just a footnote to my new interest in geocaching. But for now, this will have to do. It's Tavistock Square, site of the bus explosion this past July (here are a couple of entries I wrote at the time: the day; the next day). Here's a very nice panoramic photo of the square, taken on a much nicer day than today. The main feature of the square is a statue of Mahatma Ghandi (photo, another photo>); it also contains a memorial to conscientious objectors, an Hiroshima tree and Holocaust memorial (for these reasons, and its proximity to Friends House>, it's the first stop on the "London Peace Trail"). All that right under my nose, across the street from my office.

There goes the neighborhood

Tue, 27 Sep 2005 13:14:03 GMT

As if yesterday's entry about the alleged comings and goings of alleged felon 50 Cent wasn't enough, my bike ride home gave me another cause for concern. I was riding home near north London's Clissold Park, when up a block or so ahead I saw a guy pop out from between some parked cars and knock another cyclist off his bike with a big stick. At first I thought I must be seeing things because it's a fairly busy street, and it was nowhere near dark. Then I thought it might be some sort of domestic dispute, but ruled this out fairly quickly as the attacker (and two others) then ignored the victim and went for his bike, trying to unfasten his briefcase from his bike rack. I'm not sure what I would have done had I been the only witness (perhaps shouted "HEY" in as deep and burly a voice as I could muster, which has been successful at dispersing groups of youths a couple of times in the past), but fortunately there were a couple of other cyclists who saw the same thing. We all stopped and ran them off empty-handed (thinking about it afterwards, I'm quite glad we didn't catch any of them), then sort of milled around waiting for the police to arrive (quite quick, thanks to active curtain-twitchers in the area) and the adrenaline to dissipate.

Fortunately the victim was not injured (other than some bruising) and the attackers didn't manage to get anything of value. But this is not at all a pleasant turn of events. I'm aware of other areas in north London where cyclists have been targeted in the past (Somers Town in particular), but these cases tend to be situations where gangs of youths are involved, rather than adults. These guys were all about 18 with buzzcuts and ill-fitting tracksuits. I'm pretty sure they're Polish, not just from their appearance (and the recent increase in the Polish population in the area), but also (and this is a surprise, coming from me) their linguistic characteristics. They were exchanging a few words as we approached, containing quite a variety of fricatives/affricates that are not at all commonly heard in English¹ (which can be briefly and informally described as "lots of sounds like 'zh'"). The Wikipedia entry on the Polish language gives a more-detailed breakdown: consonants like voiced alveolo-palatal fricatives (as in "would you"), voiceless alveolo-palatal affricates (as in "what's your"), voiced alveolar affricates (as in "woods"), and many others. Anyway, my cursory knowledge of phonology (along with a few other factors) led me to conclude rather conclusively that there are some bad Polish apples within a mile or so of home.

¹In case you're wondering, English fricatives are f, v, th as in "thin", th as in "there", s, z, sh as in "she", the sound of "s" in "measure" (this one is closest to the "Polish sound" at least to my ear), and "h" as in "ham".

Sights of east London

Fri, 23 Sep 2005 11:10:46 GMT

It's time for another photo post, this time a few images loosely connected by the east London theme. In a previous entry I mentioned an impressive Hindu temple in the middle of a very ordinary neighborhood. As promised, here is a picture of the top of the London Sri Murugan temple (whose website is now working!), which has been built from granite and marble (carved in India, then brought to East Ham):

The lower part of the building is still covered in scaffolding, so it's still not quite complete. This picture was taken from just across the street, so it's not quite as gigantically impressive as the Shri Swaminarayan Mandir. But seeing it unexpectedly in the middle of such an ordinary neighborhood was a very pleasant surprise.

The rest of the photos come from a bike ride a few weeks back, in which I wandered around the River Lea valley (future site of the 2012 Olympics, and thus due for some serious regeneration work). Here is a view of the path, looking north. Although cycling is permitted, the conditions are not ideal as the path is quite narrow, popular with cyclists and walkers, and the edge of the path is the bank of the river (I am paranoid about falling or being knocked into the water). On the right you can see some of the many narrowboats that occupy this section of the river (as a hoarder, I can't imagine living in such a small space).

In the next picture I'm standing on a high(ish) footbridge across the river looking south. To my left is the Springfield Marina, and to the right is Springfield Park (I've never stopped there, but maybe I should ["built on the grounds of three 19th century houses (one of which still stands and has a rather nice café). The old glasshouses belonging to the buildings have since been turned into a tropical conservatory and are home to a pond and ornamental carp. All in all, a good place to visit on a sunny morning"]).The path alongside the river is just as narrow as before.

The east side of the Lea Valley at this point is full of water treatment facilities which lie just beyond the railroad crossing pictured here. The underpass is exactly five feet high (at the highest point), and just wide enough for two crouching cyclists to pass each other without contact if neither of them are wobbling. The pavement is also in rather poor condition here; just after I took this photo (before I got back on the bike) I was crashed into from behind by a tumbling jogger who tripped over a hole in the pavement and fell down.

After the underpass you can continue straight (past the water treatment plant, reservoirs and so on) and back into built-up areas (Walthamstow), or turn right and enter the marshland paths. As usual I did the latter, following the power lines through an otherwise natural landscape, at least if you select your location carefully and keep your eyes straight ahead, as in the picture here:

Eventually I reached the entrance to the Eastway Cycle Centre, a small island in the middle of a mess of industrial/road/rail landscape. A good impression of the area comes from this frustrated comment on the website of the British Human Power Club: "Access is actually from Quarter Mile Lane, which can be found on the southern side of Ruckholt Road, the A106. Fairly close to the New Spitalfield Market, if that's any help. More detailed directions are a bit pointless due to the perpetual construction of the M11 Link Road; the situation on the ground doesn't look much like any map, and changes quite frequently.". It currently includes a 1-mile road racing circuit as well as a serious mountain bike/cyclocross circuit. The site will apparently be redeveloped for the Olympics, to include a velodrome but to the possible expense of the off-road circuit (Eastway mountain biking still at risk from Olympic plans; a full set of considerations for a successful cycling facility, compiled by the Eastway Users Group can be found here). The picture below (looking south) shows one entry to the off-road circuit; the parking lot is to the left (it was full of serious roadies warming up for some sort of race event). I'm standing on an overpass which seems to serve only the cycle circuit, and the towers of the City of London can be seen in the distance:

My ride back took a less-pleasant turn down a highly-industrialized road (albeit with a segregated bike lane), past the construction site for a new ASDA (part of the Wal-Mart family) and many other construction sites. I breathed lots of dust and didn't feel like stopping for any pictures. Until part of the cycle path branched off towards another footbridge. It's a highly overgrown and rather secluded area, with a lot of ripe blackberries (at least when I went there). Here's a picture looking back south at the path, from the top of the footbridge. Somewhere in the underbrush to my left is my lens cap (Whoops! At least it was a cheapo replacement for the one I previously lost). Just across the bridge is a "pitch & putt" golf course; the bike path goes right through the middle of it, semi-protected by giant fences. But I got out of there fast, all I could think of was "target practice".

Route planning

Wed, 10 Aug 2005 10:28:08 GMT

As a bit of a map obessive I have been a big fan of Google Maps>, and especially all the clever ways> people have integrated other data into Google maps (e.g. Recent earthquakes, Traffic alerts, Find a taco truck> in Seattle). Perhaps my favorite at the moment is the Google Maps Pedometer> which uses Google Maps to plot, display, and calculate distances for any routes mapped by Google. The author developed it for running, but it applies just as well to cycling. Here is the route I photographed on my recent blog entry (my usual route, give or take a few back streets where I have choices). The distance is 5.40 miles (OK, perhaps the pedometer gives an excessively precise measure of 5.403858529828216 miles, the last ten or twelve digits of which should be considered highly suspect), almost entirely on side streets and taking somewhere in the vicinity of 22 minutes. Today I took a more direct route, illustrated here. It follows major bus routes until the last quarter mile or so, and is only 5.03 miles (5.032665737759287 if you want to be needlessly precise). You might think it should be faster -- I'm forced to ride at a quicker pace to flow with the traffic, and there's no joy in dawdling. But in fact it's consistently slower: today it took me about 28 minutes despite getting lucky with the traffic lights for the first half of the ride (8 traffic lights, compared to exactly zero in the first half of my preferred choice). The route is more direct and the running pace is quicker, so this is all about stopping and starting. I don't think I'll repeat the heavy-traffic route any time soon.

Cycle commute

Wed, 03 Aug 2005 10:39:57 GMT

Today I followed the lead of a fellow London cycle commuter and documented my commute into London. Unlike MJ's rather harrowing commute through heavily trafficked streets (documented here) I have the good fortune of a route that involves almost entirely back streets. There is a (slightly) more direct route but it's one of the busiest roads around, with loads of traffic signals, heavy vehicles, lots of changing lanes and unpredictable drivers (and takes me about five minutes longer in the best of times). It's about 5.5 miles (depending on the exact route).

The first photo is our street; despite the incredible similarity with MJ's street (first photo in the thread linked above) we are separated by a mile or two. It's a fairly quiet residential street with buildings from various periods (on the right is early 20th century; just behind the trees on the left are some alms houses built in 1883). Cars need not be parked facing the direction of traffic.

I have now crossed busy Amhurst Park through a cycle-only entrance (motor traffic is one-way the other way), and am traveling south on the West Bank (on the west side of the railway headed for Liverpool Street). Yes it is a largely Hassidic neighborhood.

There is a small cluster of shops here (mostly kosher) and it's always jammed up with double-parked vehicles, plus plenty of slow and frequently stopping traffic for the many schools in the next couple of blocks. Hidden by the red van are two Hassidic gentlemen who walked out in front of me without looking.

Cutting through more back roads (where motor traffic is blocked) I come to Clissold Park>. The main roads adjoining the park are narrow and heavily trafficked, which leads to fairly long tailbacks at the traffic lights. I avoid riding on pavements (sidewalks) so going through the park is the only choice. It's usually very empty during my commuting times so I can cruise through at full speed. There's a nice pond to my left, obscured by the trees.

More back roads on the other side of busy Green Lanes. Here's an instance of a chicane installed in the road for no reason other than to slow down the road traffic. Or more likely, to give speedy drivers some occasions to swerve at speed. Not pictured is the sign which visually illustrates that drivers should yield to oncoming traffic (except that some wag has flipped it upside down, so instead drivers from either side believe they should have the right of way). To the very left of the chicane is a gap through which cyclists can ride, if they don't mind some combination of broken glass and gnarled road surface.

Still more back roads, heading up a slight incline. The lack of traffic isn't just a coincidence; usually the only other drivers on most of this route are taxi drivers (suggesting that my route is a good one).

This is a real irritation most days: a shared-access cycle and pedestrian path along the edge of Highbury Fields. There are parks in both sides so cyclists need to be vigilant not only for pedestrians straying from a straight line, but also for small children, dogs and other park users running from one side to the other. At least today there was a clear path, and the shared section is only a couple hundred yards.

The most harrowing part of my journey and not well depicted in the following picture. This is the traffic roundabout at Highbury Corner; I take a long loop around it in order to go essentially in a straight line. Ah the beauties of London traffic control. There is usually a long line of traffic going to my left; in the photo I have just passed through it and am swinging around to my right. This is a major route (cycle and otherwise) into various parts of central London and as such I am leaving it very soon.

And just like that I leave Upper Street and duck down one of the many side roads. Again only cycles may travel in my direction. Note the split speed humps in the photo, as well as the "bicycle" markings on the road surface, and the nice terraced houses. And most importantly, that there is no traffic once again.

I briefly join up with another very popular cycle route. The green road surface is a dedicated cycle lane, emphasis on "dead". Note the cars parked right up to the edge of the cycle lane (Hello, door!). Also visible up ahead is a traffic island (the blue over yellow marker) which is there to slow down road traffic (it also features a road plateau). Most importantly it's not quite wide enough for a car and bicycle to go through at the same time (almost all cars swerve into the cycle lane to get through), unless the cyclist is keen on swapping a little paint. Fortunately the road plateaus mean that it's possible for a cyclist to travel at the same pace as the car traffic.

Just south of Kings Cross Station, this route avoids heavy traffic for the most part (although it's not often this quiet). I think the jagged paint markings are warning us about the zebra crossing up ahead (the one place where pedestrians have the right of way). This used to be quite a seedy area but has been greatly improved in the past year or two.

Now I join the masses of cyclists heading for the Russell Square area, the West End and all sorts of other popular central destinations. We're just passing into a traffic squeeze zone which mainly serves to trap delivery vehicles and create long traffic backups.

This is a brand new segregated cycle lane (which is gradually being extended westward at the rate of a block every few months). Dedicated traffic signals for cyclists and everything (although it's a real pain when delivery vehicles, ambulances etc. park in it). Unfortunately I'll want to go left in another two blocks, so it's almost not worthwhile to go from left to right for such a short trip.

And here it is, my destination. It's a really beautiful (apparently listed) building from the 1960s. Note the white railings which provide an efficient combination of semi-dry bicycle parking and a free bicycle buffet for local thieves.

My parking place, aka my office. Yes it is as small as it looks. That's my new 42-tooth chainring shining in the sun, a real difference from 32. Out the window you can see the windows of a large tourist hotel, which is why I don't change clothes in my room (I am afraid I cannot say the same about the tourists).

No photos here, please move along

Wed, 27 Jul 2005 10:03:11 GMT

As promised yesterday, here are all the photos from my cycle commute to work this morning:
Caption 1: It's raining. And chilly. So I decided not to take the camera on my cycle commute.
Caption 2: I decided not to take the cycle either.
Caption 3: So why am I bothering to write captions for nonexistent photos of a nonexistent journey? Hmmm I'll have to think about that one.

One of the disadvantages of being close to several useful bus routes is that it's very easy to take the lazy way out and leave the bike behind. It adds about 20 minutes to my commuting time, but gives me a chance to read. Those of you who may think my reading choices are unusual, individualistic or somehow out of the mainstream will be very disappointed to learn that I am following a massive public trend with my current choice of reading material. Yes, I have joined in the fad and am now reading Trilby by George du Maurier (OK, I'm a little behind the bleeding edge of this fad which had its heyday nearly 100 years ago, but I'm a follower not a leader). As for reading it, well, it's certainly a product of its time: it's set in Paris and chock full of clever French bons mots, well, even entire conversations that are not entirely transparent to a dullard/simpleton reader who does not read French (surely the sign of an inferior education). But the real delight is being introduced to the original Svengali, whose name has of course entered the English lexicon " to designate one who exercises a controlling or mesmeric influence on another, freq. for some sinister purpose." (Oxford English Dictionary). But he is introduced in a very subtle manner which gives no clues whatsoever that he may have sinister motives:

First, a tall bony individual of any age between thirty and forty-five, of Jewish aspect, wll-featured but sinister. He was very shabby and dirty, and wore a red béret and a large velveteen cloak, with a big metal clasp at the collar. His thick heavy, languid lustreless black hair fell down behind his ears on to his shoulders, in that musician-like way that is so offensive to the normal Englishman. He had bold, brilliant black eyes, with long heavy lids, a thin, sallow face, and a beard of burnt-up black, which grew almost from under his eyelids, and over it his moustache, a shade lighter, fell in two long spiral twists. He went by the name Svengali, and spoke fluent French with a German accent and humourous German twists and idioms, and his voice was very thin and mean and harsh, and often broke into a disagreeable falsetto.

There is no shortage of Svengali figures in the news: GhanaWeb describes Karl Rove as Bush's Svengali (and wishes for even half-a-Rove behind Ghana's President Kufuor, perhaps missing the "sinister" implications of the term), and many other news or "news" articles use the term in the same contexts. Other Svengalis appear (like the original Svengali) in the music business (Suge Knight to Snoop Dogg, Alanis Morissette's "producer/collaborator/svengali" Glenn Ballard, Dr. Dre [who I believe is NOT a real DOCTOR!] to The Game, and numerous others). Maybe some day I too will become a Svengali, but first I'll need a velveteen cloak and a bad dye job.

London cycle commuting

Tue, 26 Jul 2005 11:23:04 GMT

With the recent events in London, massive numbers of commuters have dusted off their old bicycles and taken to the streets. This will eventually be a good thing for those who keep at it, but while we wait for the wheat to be separated from the chaff, there's a lot of irritation to be found from those who have not yet learned the simple rules of the road (well, maybe not that simple). My favorite this week was a young gentleman on a shuddering rattletrap, swerving back and forth in front of a large truck (perhaps the swerving was due to the loud music coming from his headphones, or maybe from the lack of balance as he was using one hand to write a text message). So what is it like to commute by bicycle in London? A friend of mine has recently posted a series of photos showing his own morning commute (check them out here), and it's inspired me to do the same. So that's my plan for tomorrow. I will of course be forced to break a Highway Code or three in the process, but that's a long-term challenge.

Another Highway Code failure

Fri, 22 Jul 2005 11:12:40 GMT

Today's journey to work was much easier due to what seemed like a substantially reduced amount of road traffic. Probably this was related to yesterday's attempted bombings; people have chosen to "work" from home or simply start the weekend a day early. My department looks like a ghost town even relative to a normal summer Friday. Anyway this seemed an ideal situation to attempt my legal cycle ride to work (see my previous two entries). Although I previously decided to take the conservative approach when it comes to "crossing" zebra crossings, and dismount and walk the bike across them (or to avoid them), it turns out that I did not need to do so, as Code 64 (do not ride across a pelican, puffin or zebra crossing) is actually listed under a heading "Crossing the road". Therefore I need not be concerned with this Code as I do not use such crossings to cross roads. Careful reading of the Code suggests that not all violations are prosecutable (only those which include the words MUST or MUST NOT) but the challenge remains.

Anyway, to today's journey. Rather than bore you with the details of all the legal close calls (I'll bore you with something else), I'll jump right to the point of failure, which relates to overtaking (covered in Codes 138-145)¹. If there is sufficient room on the roadway (and quite often there is), and if there is no marked cycle path, accepted practice is for bicyclists to remain on the left side of the road surface and let motor traffic proceed on the right. Often, however, the motor traffic backs up but the bike space remains open, letting me whiz right by the stopped traffic (one of the major benefits of cycling). But overtaking a vehicle on the left side is permitted only under specific circumstances. The first is definitely not relevant to my situation: "only overtake on the left if the vehicle in front is signalling to turn right"; the second is more of a possibility: "stay in your lane if traffic is moving slowly in queues. If the queue on your right is moving more slowly than you are, you may pass on the left." As a cyclist traveling on the left side of the road surface, I'm not exactly in a lane, and definitely not in a queue. However, traffic was moving slowly in queues (in the right lane), therefore I was entitled to remain in the left lane and overtake from that side (as long as I did not ride on the inside of vehicles signalling or slowing down to turn left, code 57). Unfortunately I didn't have the Highway Code at hand, so I chose instead to pass (carefully and considerately) between two of the cars and overtake them on the right side, failing to notice the solid white road marking ("no overtaking", like the solid yellow line in the US). When the traffic queue started moving, I joined the flow but quickly came to a traffic signal where I foolishly stopped beyond the stop line (many feet short of the intersection itself -- short enough that two cars were ahead of it). About 10 minutes' ride into a 25-minute journey (or longer under "following the code" conditions), and another failure. But now that I know the Code a lot better, I'm ready to face the challenge again on my ride home, and I think I'll stop writing about it until I succeed.

¹I am very pleased to note that code 139 requires that drivers give cyclists "at least as much room as you would a car when overtaking". Of course they do not, but it's good to see official recognition of cyclists' road space.

The Highway Code Challenge, first fail

Thu, 21 Jul 2005 11:44:13 GMT

I decided to take on the "Ride Legal" challenge on my way home, keeping the Code in mind throughout (see yesterday's post for details). The bicycle was still not fitted with reflectors (Code 46) so the challenge was already impossible, but I decided to try it out anyway to assess its difficulty. As it turned out I failed at the very beginning: intentionally respecting Code 54 (not cycling on a pavement) I moved the bike onto the street before mounting it (under the glow of a red traffic signal). Unfortunately I failed to notice that I was several feet in front of the stop line, in apparent violation of Code 55 (crossing the stop line when the traffic lights are red). However as I did not actually pass the stop line, but entered the road beyond it, I considered this a technical "pass". I waited for the light to turn green, signaled my intentions to turn right (safely, carefully and considerately [Code 53]) into a designated cycle lane (Code 49). But at the next intersection the traffic signal was red, so I took one foot from the pedal and stopped (well behind the line, in a queue of other cyclists). Keeping both feet on the pedals is part of Code 51, so by touching the ground I may have failed the challenge. Here I argue that the pedal rule (as well as the other parts of Code 51) applies to the act of riding itself, and that stopping is an interruption in riding and as such not subject to Code 51 (i.e. it is no longer required to keep both hands on the handlebars and both feet on the pedals).

When the light turned green I proceeded, legally passing a couple of painfully-slow cyclists but remaining within the cycle lane. But an obstacle loomed at the next intersection: an ambulance occupied most of the cycle path. Most cyclists gave it a wide berth (even passing through gaps in the barrier between the cycle path and the main road) but I rode very close to the ambulance, again observing Code 49 by remaining in the cycle lane (as it was possible to do so). The forward path was blocked by construction barriers: ordinarily I would have gone straight anyway as the barriers are clearly in place to block four-wheel traffic (the cycle lane is a clear and open path despite the construction), but there was no signage permitting cycles. Therefore I signaled my intentions and turned left, followed by another signal and a right turn¹, after which I planned to turn left and rejoin my original path (rather than the alternate route which involves negotiating the nasty snarl of traffic at Kings Cross station).

Unfortunately I had forgotten that a zebra crossing was between me and my desired turning (the next one). There were no pedestrians crossing, but according to Code 64, I should apparently dismount and wheel my cycle across. Unfortunately I was at the head of a string of cycle traffic (some following me very closely), with a line of four-wheelers passing as well, so I thought it would be dangerous to suddenly stop and dismount, so I zoomed right through. No question, I had violated Code 64 and thus failed the challenge. Within five minutes, no less. Despondent, I rode the rest of the way home without obeying the Codes, riding through at least eight more zebra crossings, stopping in front of no fewer than six stop lines², continuing through a very stale yellow light as it turned red, riding outside a cycle lane (which looked more like the lunar surface> than anything someone should be required to ride on), failing to signal my intentions on frequent occasions (never mind the countless times I took a hand off the handlebars). Today I was so depressed about the likelihood of meeting the challenge that I took a bus to work instead of cycling.³

Since then, thought, it's occurred to me that I may be misinterpreting the Highway Code thanks to ambiguity in the English preposition "across". The sentence "Do not ride across a pelican, puffin or zebra crossing." (henceforth, PPZC) could be interpreted in several different ways. Putting aside those interpretations which involve actual contact with animals, this sentence could refer to crossing the PPZC itself (perpendicular to the path of the pedestrians who would use the PPZC), or to crossing the road using the PPZC (parallel to the pedestrian path). The Oxford English Dictionary's entries for "across" seem to favor the former: "1. Direction: In a direction forming a cross with, or transverse to; a. at right angles with. b. at any angle with; sideways or obliquely against. 2. Motion: From side to side of; quite through, over, in any direction except lengthwise." Therefore I think the challenge still must stand as is, at least concerning PPZCs. I think my best hope is to choose a route with a minimum of PPZCs; unfortunately my feeling is that this coincides with the greatest amount of road traffic.

¹I should note here for the reader unfamiliar with London/UK traffic management practices that stop signs are virtually unheard of; unless there is a traffic signal every intersection is a "yield" situation, either in the form of a roundabout (especially common where there might be a four-way-stop in the US), or in the form of pavement markings which indicate that traffic from one direction must yield. This makes it much easier to travel without stopping (and without disregarding traffic signs).

²Some intersections have "advanced cycle stopping zones" which are in front of the stop lines, and in which cycles are expressly permitted to wait according to the Highway Code. However, these are nearly always fully occupied by four-wheelers. Stopping behind a stop line where these zones are not present is not only a good way to be shouted at by other cyclists (and motorcyclists) whose path closer to the intersection is being obstructed, but also a good way to be squeezed out if the first vehicle in line is planning to make a left turn (and most likely has crept up past the line before the light has gone green). Besides, going past the line is a deeply-ingrained habit for me, it'll be very hard to follow this one.

³Or I may have decided to leave the bike behind because after work I am going to a gig> and would rather not leave the bike on Oxford Street where it's very likely to be stolen no matter how well it's locked. I could of course leave it overnight at work, but then I'd have to take the bus the next day.

Travel games

Fri, 15 Jul 2005 12:22:12 GMT

As someone with perhaps more than my share of obsessive-compulsive behavior patterns¹, I have always engaged in various informal personal challenges when it comes from getting from one place to another. In my younger years these typically revolved around exact routine and/or counting. For example, one long-running challenge was to make the number of steps in my walk from home to school an exact power of four. There were numerous rules to this challenge: The starting and ending points were exactly determined (threshold of the front door of home, threshold of the school door). I also had to proceed with a (fairly) uniform stride throughout (no giant steps or baby steps to artifically reach a target), although this rule was somewhat flexible in that I could walk faster or slower (but naturally so) in order to maintain a uniform stride. I also had to proceed "directly", rather than taking any detours solely for the purpose of adding to the step count (I allowed myself to select the angle at which I crossed streets, but in practice the route only allowed one such decision as it was a fairly straight shot). Finally (and perhaps most importantly) I had to keep the challenge secret from others. That wasn't so hard; my attention to walking may have been noticed, but it was easily disguised as a (childish, I thought) attention to avoiding stepping on cracks (which, by the way, offered an excellent means of assessing and controlling stride length). Sadly I have no memory of how well I did (even though I remember keeping track of my day-to-day performance on graph paper), but I'm sure I did quite well.

Nowadays, though, I'm very different. I do occasionally count my steps, but not for personal challenges! Instead it provides a good answer to questions like "which shop is closer?" and "exactly how much further is it to walk than to take the bus?" and "how many steps is it to the pub?" (errrrr, scratch that last one). But I do occasionally participate in challenges like those of my youth, and I'm happy to say that I completed one today. This challenge is bicycle-related and can be described very simply: Ride to work without touching a foot to the ground. Of course there are many fine-grained details: it's ok to MOMENTARILY come to a stop and balance, but only MOMENTARILY. Trackstands (and their ilk) are considered cheating. It's also not acceptable to ride in circles or loop back and forth to wait for a gap in traffic, and definitely not acceptable to do things like riding up onto the pavement (sidewalk) to avoid a line of traffic, a stopped vehicle, a traffic signal, etc.). Due to the many different reasonable paths from home to work, however, I did allow myself to take alternative routes to achieve this challenge (it's best to avoid high-traffic routes unless they have few traffic signals, definitely wise to avoid areas with lots of pedestrians, and the fewer crossings of major streets the better). Well, today I completed the challenge for the first time from my current residence (even though I still needed to take several blocks' detour around police cordons). This means I can lay the challenge to rest, at least until I live somewhere else. It's pointless to consider more difficult alternatives (getting to work without braking? Far too dangerous and practically impossible; I braked at least thirty times on my way here) so I have a feeling of (very minor) success.

¹Pulling up my knee-length tube socks until the tops frayed to death, pushing up my glasses continuously, counting for the sake of counting, creating histograms of surnames by frequency in the telephone book, memorizing from the (1976) Guinness Book of World Records, and many more. Good thing I married a "checker" and not a "counter".

Riding the bike more?

Mon, 11 Jul 2005 14:20:40 GMT

It's a busy day today (totally back to normal as far as work is concerned) so I don't have time to write much. I wasn't going to write anything at all but this changed my mind. I was walking my bike along the pavements near Euston Station (too gridlocked to ride at that point, and those who ride their cycles on pavements [US = "sidewalks"] are idiots) and was approached by someone from BBC radio (at least that's what he said). He asked me "After the events of last week do you find you're cycling more?" I replied that no, I cycle every day¹, and that I think everyone should cycle more, so he wasn't interested in talking to me any more. I'm sure he found someone, and I can only imagine the story he ended up with. After the break, (oh yeah, if it's BBC there won't be a break) meet a terrified commuter who took to the pushbike to avoid public transport hell, and met a hell of his own on the snarled streets of London. Sigh. Or maybe he was just looking for someone whose commute was altered by the closure of the Piccadilly line. That could have been me except these days I prefer to take the bus if I'm not on the bike.

¹ Not exactly true as I will accept many excuses to leave the bike behind.

A side note, a reader of one of my previous posts reported being "disappointed ... in that there isn't a British term for speed bump. That seems like the quintessential American term that could be improved by a spot of the Queen's English." I must have forgotten to take my clever pill that day, for there is in fact a truly British term for a speed bump: "sleeping policeman". I was aware of this term but have never heard it used. But it's in the UK lexicon, at least enough to warrant a (side) entry in the Oxford English Dictionary (under "sleeping" and "policeman", A person or object regarded as a deterrent or obstacle. In phr. sleeping policeman: a ramp in the road intended to jolt a moving motor vehicle, thereby encouraging motorists to reduce their speed.).

The next day

Fri, 08 Jul 2005 10:13:48 GMT

After finishing off yesterday's entry, I decided to make a move and head for home. Leaving the area I had to pass through three or four police cordons which were letting people out but not in. Except for the extremely large number of journalists who were within the second or third circle. I was briefly interviewed by one of them as I wheeled my bike under the police tape, but as I didn't have much to say and didn't look suitably disheveled (I did look somewhat disheveled but that is my everyday appearance), it's extremely unlikely that I'll appear in the news as a result ("Coming up after the break, meet the cycling psycholinguist who heard a boom and then browsed the web looking for news!!"). By the time I got to Mrs. Dunce's office> the scene had changed -- the roads that remained open were jammed with traffic, and a swarm of pedestrians was headed north. We joined the walkers for the 5.2-mile trek (at least according to Multimap's route planner). Some buses were running from Camden Town, but we decided not to bother (I had my bike, Mrs. Dunce wasn't interested in fighting the crowds, and it was sunny but cool). Rather than stay in the swarm, we wandered off the main roads and took a more residential approach through the back streets (4 bedroom house for sale, in need of modernisation, Camden Borders, £525,000). Eventually (just under an hour and a half) we got home, and flopped down on the couch in front of the television.

Today's travel news suggested that travel into London was ok, except for the affected tube lines, so we decided to come in as usual (well, not entirely as usual as we took our sweet time getting out of bed and getting ready). I biked in without incident... until I came to the affected area within a block of my workplace (and just by the site of the bus explosion). Streets were still cordoned off, and all traffic was diverted around (including foot and cycle traffic). The picture below indicates my route to work (marked in green, starting on the right side of the image).

I was first turned back as I approached the nearest intersection to the bus investigation site, proceeded around until I reached the (Quaker) Friends House where I was able to cut through. I approached my department again from the west, coming within spitting distance before I was turned away again. The officer suggested that entry was being permitted from the south, so that's where I went. Denied entry at the top left corner of Russell Square, then once again at the top right corner (exhausting all possibilities by road). Finally I retraced my steps back around Russell Square to the rear of the Institute of Education. I went in through the back door (with my bike), exited through the front door and zipped right into my building. After all that, I find that some of my cow-orkers and collie-gues got in without incident. Maybe I looked like a wild-eyed loony (fair enough) or perhaps they were intimidated by my bike. And that's where I am now.

Traffic calming

Fri, 01 Jul 2005 12:51:16 GMT

Numerous different techniques are being used to manage (or mismanage) the flow of traffic around London; I pass so many different varieties on my (~5.5 mile) bike commute I thought I'd take a few minutes to describe the different varieties. Most common is the speed bump. Although I haven't counted them (mainly because I haven't exactly settled upon a regular route) my previous commute included about 70 speed bumps of various types. As it turns out the different types are explained in great detail on sites like this one (where speed bumps are within the "vertical deflection" category), and ranted against on sites like this and this.

Speed humps are the most common sort I encounter (distributed across just about all of the back roads I follow wherever possible), distinguished from other sorts by extending all the way across the road. For motorized traffic, the spacing between them seems to be the biggest issue: the closer they are together, the greater the reduction in vehicle speed (and the greater the impact on larger vehicles that bounce over them -- especially ambulances [one of the big arguments against humps of this sort is that ambulances are forced to slow down, thus increasing response times {and transit-to-hospital times}]). As a cyclist my biggest concern is instead the angle of impact: a sinusoidal hump is much smoother to ride over than a "standard" hump (i.e., one which rises at a sudden angle). The latter can be incredibly jarring to run into (just like hitting a small curb/kerb), especially when the adjoining road surface has sunk or deteriorated. This depends on the neighborhood, and the amount of heavy traffic.

One solution to the concerns for large motor vehicles is the plateau. In its simplest form the plateau is just a longer-than-normal (wider-than-normal?) speed hump with a flat surface on the top (also known as a "speed table"). This apparently prevents some of the "bounce effect" on motor vehicles; the issues for cyclists are the same as for speed humps (it all depends on the quality of the transition from the road surface to the edge of the plateau). These are especially common in intersections: most intersections in our neighborhood has recently been converted into fairly elaborate brick plateaus, although they've already been scarred by fast-moving cars (which hit the not-at-all sinusoidal edge of the raised brick section with a loud kerthump, and many of which seem to spew oil as a result).

Yes another alternative is the speed cushion. This is like a speed hump but with gaps to allow cycles (or the wheels of ambulances) to zoom right by without any vertical deflection whatsoever. Sounds like a great solution to emergency vehicles and cyclists alike, but in practice, this seems to provide even more danger, as car drivers tend to swerve so as to place at least one set of wheels in the "no vertical deflection" area (where there may or may not be a bicycle). Somehow I always seem to be riding over speed cushions in order to avoid being run over.

Another class of vertical deflection traffic calming measures is the "uneven road surface" like rumble strips and jiggle bars. Fortunately I don't experience any of these in my daily commute, as these can be really nasty to a cyclist. They're better suited as warning devices on high-speed roads (motorways and the like), not very well suited to any sort of residential areas as they're incredibly loud.

And that's just vertical deflections. I haven't even gotten to horizontal deflections (chicanes and half-chicanes), road narrowings, false one-way systems, islands, gates, speed cameras, pseudoroundabouts, or any of the futile attempts to keep pedestrians alive. Anyway, there are numerous official UK documents on traffic calming here, including the official traffic calming regulations, and just about anything else (PDF about traffic calming in Bird

But not fixed

Fri, 22 Apr 2005 11:56:16 GMT

I've made the move to a single-speed bike, but no way would I take the extreme step of riding a fixed-gear bike for my city commute. A friend of mine has gone that route, though, and has been commuting "fixed" for the past three weeks or so (I wish him luck).

I can see why fixed-fanatics consider it the ultimate cycling experience, and why it's so popular among urban messengers (totally responsive and light, fewer moving parts to break down, etc), but as a commuter ride it strikes me mainly as macho posturing>. Becoming one with your bike is a good thing in theory, but it's no good if the singular bike-human can't stop in time (I've needed to make a fairly quick stop about once a week). Perhaps I'm simply ignorant (having only passing acquaintance with fixed gears), and I'm definitely not so macho. I don't think I'll try it on city streets any time soon (and I haven't even mentioned SEVERED FINGERS, something mentioned a little too frequently in discussion of fixed-gear bikes [Please forgive me for not including hyperlinks on this last point]).

Eccentricity

Thu, 21 Apr 2005 11:53:40 GMT

This week I became a new man, at least in bicycling terms, as I'm the proud owner of a new bike -- at least new-to-me. I've made an important transition in the world of cycling, not just going from old bike to new, but also in going from 21 speeds to just one. Yes, I've joined the single speed revolution and bought one of these, a Cannondale 1FG:

Fortunately mine does not come with the faux-graffiti Cannondale stickers, but otherwise quite similar in appearance to the one pictured. It's set up with a 32/12 gear ratio (spare rear wheel has a 16 cog in case I want to set it up for more difficult off-road situations), and the largest tires I've ever had on a bike (26x2.5) which gives me an effective wheel size of something like 80". Which seems reasonable for tackling the (few) hills I encounter in my city rides, and OK for the flats (more spinning than I'm used to, but perhaps a little exercise is good).

It's a great bike, but I'll have to keep it inside -- it might as well have a giant spotlight and illuminated sign saying "STEAL ME".