Bike Overnight: D.A.R. State Forest

The fam and I did a lightning overnight at the D.A.R. State Forest in Goshen, MA last night. I could go on and on about the delights, but will sum it up with Junior Velosopher's concise review: "Today was the best day I ever had with you guys."

I made it a psuedo bike overnight by riding up there from our place, once I finished helping Mrs. V pack the car. They passed me in the car on the way up (and up, and up...). We threw camp together, had dinner, and went for a walk in time to see the last of the sunset at the camper's beach, glimmers of light ochre reflected in the smooth black surface of the water. Ducks waddled about making soft trills and looking for treats.

Is there anything better than camp breakfast? Hot eggs and sausage, coffee made on the fire, the tang of woodsmoke thick in the chill air. The weather was utterly perfect, dry and sunny, so I motivated Jr.to accompany me on a ride to the famous fire tower -- a brute of a climb, including a steep mile of loose gravel, but unbelievably worth it. Unspoiled forest as far as the eye could see, with mountains in the distance. I'm guessing you can see at least three states from up there.

We threw a few extra climbs in, headed back, and packed up. Before we left the park, we lunched by the beautiful swimming lake, toasted our tootsies in the sun, and took a dip in the clear, icy water. Ahhh.

Back at home now, it feels as if we were away at least two nights. Beyond food and gas -- barely more than we'd have spent if we'd stayed at home -- we were in for $20 for our reservation and $10 for our firewood. Not bad.

We will be returning for a much longer stay at this sylvan paradise -- a mere 35-minute drive from our door.

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Fort Hill, Amherst Mass

A great bike adventure doesn't have to take you hours from your front door. I discovered one last week just 20 minutes away, and you can, too, if you live near Amherst, MA. Fort Hill is near the center of town, but it's amazing how quickly it gets beautifully pastoral.

Everyone knows about the Norwottuck bike trail, which runs from Northampton through Amherst and out to Belchertown. Right off that trail, very close to Amherst center, is a small network of dirt roads and trails where I've managed to string together a good 15 or 20 minutes of fun for that moment when I'm passing through town and want a real nature break.

To access it, turn off South Pleasant Street/Route 116 into the driveway for Amherst Farmers Supply, and take an immediate left onto the bike trail.

View Larger Map

About a mile east on the trail, at the very end of the Amherst College tennis courts, turn left onto a wide dirt road, and then follow the main road, bearing right at the maintenance shack you'll see in front of you. You'll start climbing, and also playing with the various surface ingredients -- wonderfully packed dirt; loose, marbly gravel; and packed, flinty stones. (I recommend at least 28 mm tires.)

Keep climbing past the small pen of adorable pigs, and then 'round the bend after the buzzing beehives:

About 50 yards later, you'll top out and receive your reward: A panoramic view of the Amherst valley and the Pelham hills, from a lovely clearing with a picnic table.

The worn stone steps I found at the opposite side of the clearing made me wonder if Fort Hill had an actual military structure on its summit at one point. 

The table is in a nice shady spot with a light breeze, which dispels the heat and mosquitoes. If you return to the main road and continue down the other side of the hill, you'll end up at the junction of Southeast Street:

I recommend, however, retracing your path back down the hill a little, just past the piggies, and finding the opening in the trees on your left. You'll enter a small network of walking trails that creates a swoopy descent back down to the bike trail. One of the trails will dump you onto the bike trail right where you left it; enjoy poking around until you find that one. 

From there, take a left onto the other end of the main dirt road. Soon, you'll see a gate set in the trees on your right. Take this delightful little trail through the woods back up to the entrance of the Farmers Supply, and voila! You're back where you started. 

No muss, no fuss -- you don't even have to break a sweat to get a little dirt action, quietude, and a splendid view, right off the center of Amherst, on a nice summer day. 

It pays to poke around.

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The Joys of Wrenching Your Own

When I started riding again six years ago, and it became evident that I was in it for the long haul this time, I set my mind to learning to repair my own bike.

Wrenching at home eliminates a trip to the bike store -- where I might have to wait a day or three for my bike, and pay a nice chunk for the privilege. It increases my confidence on long rides, knowing I'm less likely to be stranded.

Perhaps most precious, it's a feast for the senses.

it puts my hands on something material and finite, a small metal and rubber puzzle waiting to be manipulated, twisted, aligned. It replaces rushing and talk and noise with the quiet tapping of metal on metal and the measured click-click-click of the freewheel. The heft of the bike as I put it in the stand, the cool feel of steel and aluminum, the balanced weight of a well-made tool in my palm, the satisfaction of dirt, grease, and grass disappearing beneath an old rag. The bouquet of quality machine lubrication, a scent I often leave on my hands for the rest of the day, to bring a smile as I sit before my computer or my clients, groping through the realm of abstractions.

Here's what I've been able to learn so far, in no particular order:

• Repair flats, in all the many varieties
• Apply handlebar tape
• Install/remove pedals
• Remove, replace, adjust front and rear derailleur
• True a wheel with either traditional or bladed spokes
• Straighten derailleur hanger
• Remove/replace handlebar stem
• Lower/raise handlebars
• Adjust sidepull and mechanical disc brakes
• Install/remove fenders, rack
• Properly fit a bike -- seat height, bar reach, etc.

I'm proud of this list because it took years to compile. I'm not essentially mechanically oriented; Mrs. V. does almost all the repairs around the house, having been raised by a very handy father. 

About the only items that caused long-term frustration were the front and rear derailleur adjustments. I went years before I realized the role that the limit screws can play in easing a shift up to the bigger ring in the front. I was setting the screws by the book -- allowing a minimal clearance between derailleur cage and chainring -- and then trying to make the cable do all the work. Allowing a bit more play in the limit setting allowed me to ease up a bit on the cable tension and nail that shift. No mechanic, including the one I'd paid to teach me, ever mentioned this. Perhaps it's not even kosher -- but it works like a charm, every time.

In the rear, the magic wand was my new derailleur hanger adjustment tool. It's a beautiful Park Tool piece which cost upwards of $50.00, but was worth every penny. No one ever told me that some derailleur hangers bend when you simply look at them funny, nor that the very slightest misalignment means you will never, never be able to properly adjust your shifting in back. If you're unable to find the sweet spot with your barrel adjuster, and you've got trouble shifting both up and down, and your chain and cassette are not worn out, don't worry: you're not crazy. You just need to align your hanger. Once you do, the thing will shift just as smooth as silk, and your next ride will be soooo pleasing.

Finally, here are the repairs I'd still like to master:

• Remove/install chain (this one probably just requires an occasion to try)
• Install/remove brake and derailleur cables/housing
• Install/remove crankset
• Install/remove bottom bracket
• Install/remove cassette (probably just need chain whip)

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(Edit, 9/7/13: Added "apply handlebar tape" to can-do list.)

Review: Just Ride, by Grant Petersen

Like so many cycling fanatics I know, I recently got my hands on a copy of this lovely little paperback, unusually tall, narrow, and well-designed (and released by Workman Publishng, New York, 2012).

I'm familiar with all the Petersen critiques -- he's a fanatic, too militantly unfashionable, too stuck on his own eccentricity. Well, it turns out that, no matter what rules you make up, they'll apply to some folks somewhere, and between his storied history at Bridgestone and his leadership at Rivendell, Petersen built himself a soap-box just tall enough to reach each one of that select few -- and created a sub-culture in the process.

Myself, I'm leery of cults of personality. Petersen's a master marketeer: his copy on the Riv website is enchanting and insidious. It feels just like it was written after hours over a beer and a burrito by a guy who deeply cares how you feel on a bike. Eventually, after one too many mini-articles touting his latest nouveau-retro innovation, I start worrying that my bike is too light, my tires are too narrow, and my handlebars are too low. 

He's got magnetism to spare; it's that Cali surfer-dude allure, shared with guys like Gary Fisher and, well, Jeff Bridges. It just makes the Northeasterner in me suspicious. 

And yet, I found gems in these pages. I like Petersen for his strong advocacy of common-sense bicycling. It supports my ongoing attempts to de-compete myself, to turn into a knowledgeable bike rider who has handsome, useable bikes, instead of a pseudo-racer trying to keep up with the latest guy who burned me. This is the book's main thrust -- the freeing of bicycling from the deleterious influence of professional bike racing -- and, for that, it gets three stars.

Turns out the book is a lot like Petersen: Charming, a touch too self-consciously quirky, and yet, occasionally alarmingly helpful. 

Face it -- sitting through the rantings of a guy who's been taste-making in the bike business for decades is always going to be worth it. I say, go for it. 

If you're unsure, do as I did, and request a copy through your local library. Or, splurge and buy yourself one; when all's said and done. the man runs an honest and passionate business, and that's a value we all need to support.

The Best Tour de France Ever?

Eight seconds.

After three solid weeks of racing five or six hours a day, over frozen mountain peaks and through humid, blistering valleys, Greg LeMond -- the first, and now the only American to win the Tour de France (and he won it three times) -- rode his guts out into Paris, against all the odds, on the very last day of the race, and beat Laurent Fignon -- the hometown hero! -- by eight measly seconds.

Eight seconds!

Many say it was the most exciting and surprising Tour finish ever.

Last week, whilst tooling about Amherst getting some things done (on my bike), I stopped at the venerable Jones Library to drop off some paperwork. On my way out, I passed a table of ancient magazines recently withdrawn from the collection. I stopped just long enough to notice that they were all Sports Illustrated issues from the late '80s and early '90s. I wasn't overly interested, but I flipped a couple of copies over, and... voilá! Cette:

Hope you enjoy this little rest-day bon-bon. The article is well-written and the photos sublime, so click to enlarge the scans, and then expand the expansions to enjoy the text.

The man was, and remains, a Giant. Chapeau, M. LeMond!

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