Tombstone Tuesday :: Phend Family at South Park

The Phend plot at South Park Cemetery, Whitley County, Indiana.

Henry and Susie Phend, my great grandparents, with their infant son Richard Lincoln.

Virgil Gilbert Phend, son of Henry and Susie.

Rolland Victor Phend, my grandfather, son of Henry and Susie.
My grandfather was 22 years old when his brother Richard was born. He once told me that he was holding little Richard at the time of his death.

Virgil was married to Heneretta Nelson on November 5, 1930. They were divorced six months later. Heneretta then married Virgil's brother, Don Phend, on September 5, 1931. Virgil graduated with the 1922 class of Columbia City High School. Like so many boys and young men, he worked for a while on the Aker onion and potato farm that was then located west of Columbia City. Later he attended an electrical engineering school at the University of Chicago. For a number of years he was associated with his father and brother, Gerald (Dufty) Phend in the building contracting business. Many of the downtown store fronts were renovated while he was an associate of the firm. In 1963 he began working as an architect with Roy McNett Designs, Inc. with whom he was employed at the time of his death.

All photographs taken May 4, .. by Becky Wiseman

'Fork's Bent?'... Suspicious Cracks in the Paint Cause Concern

The phrase "fork's bent" has become a private joke of sorts in vintage bicycle circles. Almost any time somebody posts a picture of their "awesome vintage find," there will be that one person who comments that "the fork looks bent." Most of the time, the fork is not bent and it's just something to say - or maybe the angle or the lighting in the picture are misleading. Nonetheless, the possibility of a bent fork or frame is certainly something to watch for in vintage bikes. If a bicycle is steel, a bent frame or fork is not necessarily tragic - steel is flexible and the bent portion can usually be straightened. Cracks, on the other hand, are of greater concern.



During my visit to Geeekhouse last week, the guys were looking at my Gazelle and pointed out that the bits of cracked paint underneath the fork crown could indicate cracks in the surface of the fork itself. Needless to say, my heart sank.



I noticed the cracked paint before, but didn't think anything of it. The fork blades in of themselves are not deformed and there are no indicators that the front end of the bike has been in a collision. In an impact strong enough to bend the fork, surely there would have been some other damage - but there is not a scratch anywhere. The bicycle also handles absolutely fine - better than fine - with no indication of anything "off" in the steering.



It would be easy to dismiss the cracked paint, if it were not for one red flag: The cracks are symmetrical - right underneath the fork crown, on both the right and the left blade. How did they get there, and how can we tell whether it really is just cracked paint or an indicator of some sort of trauma to the fork?



I was speaking to a local frame-builder yesterday, who advised to check for similar paint cracks in the back of the fork blades. There are none; the paint is cracked only in the front. To him, this was an indicator that the fork could be fine - as stress fractures typically happen in the back and not in the front of the blades. He also pointed out that even if the fork has been bent and reset, or even if there are hairline cracks, a massive Dutch fork like this can probably take it, without it being a safety issue. No doubt there are loads of people in the Netherlands riding ancient beaters with visibly bent forks.



But the bottom line is, that we simply don't know what's going on under that cracked paint. To find out for sure, I would need to remove the paint from the fork blades and thoroughly examine the steel underneath - which I am reluctant to do, as the original paint is so nice. Is there any way to diagnose while keeping the paint intact? Any suggestions or thoughts are welcome.

Sophie Prior - "The Ricoh Destruction Test"

Sophie Prior came to visit.






So did Logan Barber.

The jjobrien climbing and relaxation ranch on Australia's Sunshine Coast hinterland has beengraced witha long list of climbing legends and little-knowns.

The staff were excited about the arrival of Logan Barber and gave little thought to his plus-one a Sophie Proir.

Turns out she has talent, grace and presence.




A quick climbing tour of the Sunny Coast starts with the obligatory thrash on Coolum Cave's icons.



How do you like this guy? He puts all the moves together in one session. Sadly, didn't get to go back and send it. No doubt he can and will.





Then for a "rest" day they get stuck into "The Ricoh Destruction Test" 100m 23 (M1)

I have to work that day but I wag a couple of hours and rap in over the fourth pitch.

They ran into some problems on the second pitch and I whipped out the long lens justas they werefeeling the joy of getting established at the second hangingbelay.







Logan knocks off the tricky third pitch, blocky overlaps and lack of feet.







Sophie follows and picks her way through the overlaps.



Funny story. I moved to Tinbeerwah in 2000. There were just a couple of routes there but rarely any climbers. I hatched a plan to create a climbing scene close to my home.

So I spent weeks bolting the longest, hardest route I could conceive ofthinking it would drawclimbers from everywhere.

Nothing.

The route has probablyhad about three repeats in over ten years.

A year later I bolted some 14s. That got 'em in.







Gareth Llewellyn and Adam Donoghue did the route on their epic "Tinny in a day"

There's been a couple of hundred metres of hard climbing added since then.







Sophie gets the stand-out pitch 4.

Slabby, columns, run outs, big air below, carrots, it's got it all.











The Ricoh in question failed the 100M drop test by the way. It's mangled body could be seen at the base of the route.

My old Nokia phone got dropped from here at 80M. Recovered the following day.

"You have 3 messages"!!!






















Best shot of the roll.

Perfect position and poise. You can just make out Logan at the vanishing point.







Nice work team. Logan ticked a swag of tough routes around SEQ in a punishing nine days on.






Logan inspects Queensland's hardest high ball boulder sector never to have been touched.







Late winter is luxurious on the Sunny Coast, beautiful days and wild flowers.

Sophie's home is in the Blue Mountains, a favourite of Aussie climbers but so harsh in winter.












Thanks Sophie.

I've been trying to sell this route for a decade.

Rutland Round 5 - Normanton to Clipsham

With Marta. Fine, sunny, but cold to start with. Some mud underfoot. Luckily I remembered the way through Clipsham Quarry. Only other small problem was on the way to Tickencote where we missed a turn to the right, but were able to correct easily. Lunch at The Plough in Great Casterton. 14 miles including walk to Yew Tree Avenue.

An early morning shot before leaving one car here

The first two miles from Normanton Car Park on Rutland Water were very simple - follow the yellow brick road, well, the tarmac path, past the café, past Normanton church and the back entrance to the Normanton Park Hotel, and carry on across the dam. Blue sky, blue water, and a chilly north wind. A few cyclists, loads of sheep and the guys inflating those see-through balloons you can be strapped in to roll down the grassy slope behind the dam.



Instead of going through the gate at the end of the dam path, we followed the field edge round, almost turning back on ourselves. We walked along the edge of the wooded area, and shortly after a couple of trig points, or similar objects, there was a stile on our left which led into a field. We spotted the Rutland Way signs for the first time today - and on the stile.

Ten out of ten for clarity!

The signs were easy to follow from this point, leading over fields and through some woodland, until the path emerged into Nook Lane in Empingham. Nook Lane leads to the main A 606. We crossed over to walk past the White Horse pub and along the road through the village. The church was down a small road to the right as we walked straight on.



Just after the end of the village, very soon after Mill Lane, the footpath goes away from the road, up through a short stretch of woodland - Chapel Spinney. A little further along the road after the turn there's a convenient bench for our first stop of the day - a little chilly in the shade, so we didn't linger longer than the few minutes needed to top up the caffeine level.



The path came out of the trees into sunshine and continued along the top edge of several fields. Empingham was now a cluster of houses and the church behind us. We passed a spinney on the right, and continued to follow the path. There may be a waymarker that we missed, but we fought our way thorugh an overgrown section and came out on the concrete path leading towards Tickencote Lodge Farm. We had just walked round the two sides of a triangle instead of the hypotenuse - give or take the accuracy of the right angles.

Tickencote Lodge Farm

We turned right and walked down the track until we met the Rutland Round waymarker pointing back to where we should have walked. Close by was a stile into the next field of recently cut hay, which we crossed diagonally (just south of east) to the next yellow post just before another farm house.



We followed the signs round the house and on to a small road north east for a short distance, before entering a couple of fields and walking in the same direction, the turning slightly to the right.

Tractor tedding hay near Tickencote

We crossed another small road towards Tickencote Hall, and had to brave this signposted danger:








He seemed to be dozing in the shade and showed no interest in us.

Looking towards Tickencote Hall

The path goes past the church of St Peter, which is small but impressive. It was restored at the end of the eighteenth century, but is considered a fine example of a Norman church.

The vaulting

The chancel arch

The East End of the church

We walked through the village to a sign and short section of path which crosses a field, then emerges on to a road near the OK Diner, then goes under the A1 and into Great Casterton. The Plough Inn is right on the route and provided an adequate, though not perfect lunch, with exceptionally friendly service from its new landlord.



Chatter, imperfect map-reading and inattention to the book's instructions almost set us off on the wrong road after lunch - and all on fruit juice at that.



You need to walk along to the junction with the Pickworth road, and turn left past the primary school - or take the narrow lane between houses just before the school sign on the main road. In any case take the road out of Great Casterton past the school and walk along this for a good mile until you reach Mounts Lodge Farm. Opposite here a bridleway leads to the left - almost due west. The path was pretty muddy - puddle-dodging skills honed while you walk.



After a few hundred yards, at the end of the first very big field, we turned right along a grassy track. We continued along this, ignoring any tracks to the right or left, and made our way more or less north towards Pickworth. The signing around here is pretty poor. Just opposite the point where the path meets the road is this medieval arch.

Photograph from 24.11.

The arch, on private land is all that remains of a church from the 12th, 13th or 14th century.

The remains of a lime-kiln, where John Clare worked for a while as a lime-burner. - 18.11.

The lime-kiln is also on private land, and almost invisible in the summer.

We turned left along the road, and walked past the first footpath sign near Manor Farm, and past the limekiln, to find the path we needed, which goes off to the right at a bend in the road. Time for another coffee-break, before tackling the remaining three or four miles.



The path is wide and clear, and we had no trouble finding the point where we turned right across a field towards a strip of woodland marked as Little Sutie on the map. Through this was where I had wandered last time i walked here. The map shows the path diverging slightly from the wood on the right hand side. This time we followed the edge more closely and we found the path through the quarry with no difficulty. Once at the quarry the bridle way is clearly posted.

Clipsham Quarry 24 Nov

The path from the quarry towards Clipsham provided a few earlyish blackberries today. No problems following the route from here as for most of the way it runs between hedges, and the village is clearly visible.



We walked along the Castle Bytham road for about a mile to get back to the Yew Tree Avenue. Fourteen miles on the clock today.

Why Fixed Gear?

I have been riding fixed gear bicycles for about a year and a half now, and enjoy it so much that it is hard to talk about without getting embarrassed. Here in the Boston area, fixed gear is associated with a distinct cultural attitude and fashion sense, and I do not fit the mold. Seeing me on a bicycle with a fixed drivetrain often seems to surprise people, and I've been told on more than one occasion that I "don't seem like the type." While I suspect this is mostly used as a conversation starter by men, it still succeeds in making me self-conscious. What is it about fixed gear that I like so much and why do I "need" this type of bicycle?

I first tried a fixed gear bike in June . I was staying in Vienna and pining over the nearby velodrome's summer closure, and a friend offered to teach me to ride a track bike so that I could ride around the velodrome building (this seemed very funny at the time - around the velodrome, get it?). I was afraid to try it at first, but as soon as I got on the bike I didn't want to get off it. It felt so natural and intuitive. My friend ended up leaving the bicycle with me for the duration of my stay in Vienna and I rode it in the park after work every chance I got. Cycling slowly due to the lack of brakes, I must have looked like an idiot, but didn't care. I discovered that on fixed gear, my bicycle handling skills somehow improved. I could make tighter turns, cycle through narrow spaces, control my speed better, and just be more in control. It felt as if I suddenly gained a better understanding of how a bicycle worked. The custom Italian track bike made for a now-retired racer felt unexpectedly comfortable, save for the curvature of the handlebars. I could ride this thing for hours with a silly smile on my face. It became clear during those rides that I needed a fixed gear bike of my own once I returned to the US. A friend of a friend sold me a good road frame for fixed gear conversion, and I mailed it to myself in Boston before leaving Vienna.

Waiting for the road frame to arrive (it took over 3 weeks!) I couldn't stop talking about my experience with fixed gear, and just for the heck of it one weekend the Co-Habitant and I converted the Motobecane mixte I then owned to a single speed with a fixed/free flip-flop hub. Doing this was easy and inexpensive. We picked up a budget wheelset, modified the existing crankset, shortened the chain and that was pretty much that. I rode this bicycle around the city and out to the countryside, and it was great fun. But I mostly thought of it as a novelty. On an upright bike, I preferred a freewheel. This bicycle was a great hit around the neighbourhood though, especially when I fitted it with some colourful dressguards. The woman who later bought it planned to use it as a freewheel single speed, but liked the idea of having the fixed option by flipping the wheel.

Finally the vintage road frame I'd bought in Vienna arrived in the mail, and we quickly put it together. You might recognise this as the previous incarnation of theMoser I now ride as a geared roadbike. The tires here look huge, but they are 28mm Panaracer Paselas - the frame had just enough clearance for them if I did not use a rear brake. I rode this bike a lot, and particularly enjoyed it once it began to get cold. There was something about cold and dreary days on a fixed gear that was just magic.But while I loved riding the Moser, it became apparent over time that the frame was not really suitable for fixed gear conversion due to its very low bottom bracket. As my speed on the bike increased I started to get pedal strike when cornering on bumpy or uneven roads, and did not feel that this was safe. Last winter I began to look for another frame, which did not prove to be very easy given my criteria (lugged steel, horizontal dropouts, high bottom bracket, small size,and no toe overlap). I considered getting a frame from Royal H., but could not afford it. I considered the new SimpleOne from Rivendell, but learned that they would not be making one in my size. And that is how I came to be in possession of a Mercian.

By the time I ordered this bicycle from Mercian, I had a good idea of what I wanted in a fixed gear. I did not want a track bike, but a comfortable and somewhat relaxed roadbike that just happened to have afixed gear drivetrain. I wanted to fit it with 28mm-32mm tires for road and occasional trails. I wanted it to have tame handling without feeling sluggish. All of this was done. When I began to ride this bicycle after we put it together, it was just the feeling I wanted. It is comfortable, intuitive, has no toe overlap or pedal strike, and I can ride it for quite a long time without getting tired.

So why fixed gear and what do I like about it so much? If I have to pin it down, there are two distinct elements of this type of bike that I enjoy. First, I simply find it soothing and pleasant. The motions my legs make on a fixed gear feel different - more circular and rhythmical.In that sense it is really not about speed at all, but about being able to ride with smooth and regular pedal strokes and enjoying the state of mind this puts me in. I find this to be very relaxing when I am stressed out. Even just riding in circles around the neighbourhood, the magical sensation of the drivetrain never fails to calm me down and clear my head.

Second, I feel that riding a fixed gear roadbike helps me with technique. My movements feel more elegant and precise, and I can sense that I am developing a more intuitive sense of balance. I play games where I try to keep the bike going at all costs - slowing down to a crawl before a traffic light rather than stop as I wait for it to turn green. I also like to see how fast I can accelerate under different circumstances, and play "sprinting" games until I get out of breath. This is much more interesting to do on a fixed gear than on a freewheel bike, because once you get the drivetrain going it feels as if it "helps" you. All this may sound silly, but somehow I feel that things like this really help. Fixed gear bikes feel playful and very safe, which encourages me to try all this stuff that I would not normally try. Slowly but surely, I can tell that it improves my geared roadcycling skills - including the somewhat "duh" realisation that if I continuously pedal and feather the brakes instead of coasting, then I will feel more in control of my geared roadbike as well.

But all this talk of technique is probably beside the point. When it comes down to it, we do things that we enjoy and fixed gear is for me simply one of those things. I can't imagine not owning a bike like this. I begin to get fixed gear cravings if I don't ride one for more than a week. Luckily, that should not be a problem.