Sherpas, some random thoughts and "Sherpa Adventure Gear"...

Photo courtesy of Mtn. of Travel web site

http://www.mountainsoftravelphotos.com/Makalu/Main.html

In the spring of 1977 John Roskelly and I left Spokane WA to attempt the West Pillarof Makalu with the first permission for a two person attempton a Nepalese 8K meter peak. Luckily for both of us in retrospect, John became severely ill on the walk in and our trip ended as a complete failure, still days from the mountain.



A 4 person Spokane team, againincluding John, returned to Makalu in 1980. John summitted alone on that trip butwith thesupport of ourfriends Jim States, Chris Kopczyski and Kim Momb. Theclimb was madewithout Sherpa support.



But John's and my short walk was a life changing event for me.



I had just started guiding in the NW a few years earlier and knew some of the the hazards even small peaks offer. The size, elevation and remoteness of the big Himalayan peaks was truly awe inspiring in 1977 and continue to be so now.



I was not comfortable in 1977 even paying porters to carry my gear into the mountains. I could not in good conscious ask anyone to climb a mountain with me simply for a salary. Even if that was likely the only salary available. I did notlike the economic realitiesof the relationship and did not want to be a part of it.



I have no clue how it is now but there was a pretty stark difference between the standard of living we enjoyedin the USA and the gear we would use compared to what the standard of living was in Nepal and the gear (which would be part of their salary)we would offer our porters or climbing Sherpas. I have not gone back to climb inNepal but even in 1977 I was uncomfortable asking anyone else to risk their life to come out and "play with me".



Enter Joe Puryear decades later. I admired Joe's Alaska climbs and we exchanged a few emails on routes he had done there. (there were few he hadn't) Joe was always gracious and gave freely of his time to complete strangers like myself.





Photo courtesy of Joe Puryear http://www.joepuryearimages.com/

You couldn't help but also notice on Joe's web site his climbing in Nepal and his obviousinvolvement in the Sherpa community.



http://climbnepal.blogspot.com/



I am sure there were othersprevioustoJoe's and David's tripsdoing something similar but they certainly inspired me by their actions. Theyseemed tobe involved in Nepal and the people not just just taking advantage of situation economically and getting to "climb on some one else's back".I liked what I saw and admired them for it.



If you look at Joe's web pages one of his sponsors isa company called Sherpa Adventure Gear.



http://www.sherpaadventuregear.com/index.php



To be honest until yesterday I thought Sherpa Adventure Gear was a small company, based in Nepal.Likely Kathmandu, and making the odd pieceof funky wool bits. Joe's trade mark hats for example :) I figured Joe was just supporting a local cause for the best of reasons. Nothing could have been fartherfrom the truthon the "funky wool bits". But I have no doubt Joe was "supporting a good cause for the best of reasons", just as Sherpa Adventure Gear was supporting Joe's avocation. By all accounts it wasa close and supportive relationship fromboth sides.



Here is the company line:



"Sherpa Adventure Gear was inspired by the many unsung Sherpa heroes of Everest. From the start, our goal has been to create outstanding outdoor clothing and gear you can depend on. But more than this, we want to show you a glimpse of the Sherpa culture and way of life. And at the same time support our Sherpa community back home. Whether you are looking for gear on your next adventure, or just want to learn more about the Sherpa people, you can discover all this in our website."



Tashi Sherpa

Founder and President



More here:

http://www.sherpaadventuregear.com/aboutus.php



Surprisingly Sherpa Adventure Gear is actually based in Renton Wa. Owned and staffed by Sherpa family members for the most part. But make no mistake this isn't a simple"mom and pop" operation. They have a national and international dealer network as well as several successful retail stores in Nepal. Sherpa Adventure Gear isserious player in active outdoor wear world wide. The majority of their products are sewn in Nepal with a smaller percentage in China at the moment. Mr. Tashi Sherpa and his immediate family are the driving force here and in Nepal.



As a small manufacture myself I have begun to look at what I make, how that effects others, the productsusefullife spanand how my products arerecycled.



It makes me more aware of what others are doing in their own communities and why.



The climbing community, especially the alpine climbing community is very small. And it hasn't changed much in the decadesI have been involved with it.. We are in fact a large family. Death is a fact in alpine climbing. Joe Puryear'sdeath last year effected many climbers, locally and Internationally. It will happen again...and again. It is part of our game.



This is a hard blog to write. Too many serious issues that most (including myself) would rather ignore. So I'll stop there.



I wouldn't have brought up Sherpa Adventure Gear here if I didn't think they were making some incredible products for hard alpine climbing, no matter what their politics were. But their politics stood out to me. I was introduced to the company yesterday and bought a couple of their pieces for my own use that I will review in the blog. Just wanted to give a heads up for a business and business model I admire in many ways.



"Namiste"

Myths About the Mixte

With the Renaissance of the Mixte still going strong this year, I find myself in frequent discussions over its benefits and drawbacks. And inevitably, I catch myself over-stressing the drawbacks - but it's only because I want to make sure that those who dream of mixtes look at them realistically and not through rose-coloured glasses. There's this idea that the mixte is the perfect do-everything bike, because it can be used both as a roadbike and as a city bike - but I do not entirely agree. So here are some "myths" about the mixte, which I would like to supplement with a more realistic set of expectations:

1. The mixte is a roadbike and a transportation bike in one



In theory yes, in practice not really. The typical mixte frame has roadbike geometry, combined with a lower step-over height than a diamond frame bike. The road geometry is what makes it light, fast, and suitable for being set up as a roadbike. The lower stepover is what makes mounting and dismounting easier, thus making it suitable for transportation.



But while the mixte frame design may work as a roadbike or a transportation bike, you can't actually set it up as both simultaneously. If you set up your mixte with upright handlebars, it will be faster than a heavy, upright city bike, but it will not perform like a roadbike with drop bars. On the other hand, if you set it up with drop bars it may perform like a roadbike, but the positioning will be too aggressive for a city bike. The mixte frame construction has the potential to be either, but you still have to choose.



2. The mixte is easy to mount and dismount



That depends on where you are coming from. If you are used to diamond frame bicycles, then yes it is easier: On a mixte, you don't need to swing your leg around the back, but can lean the bike toward you and step over. However, if you are used to step-through and loop frame bicycles, the mixte may disappoint you. On step-through and loop frames, the top tube is low enough to just freely walk through. The mixte's stepover is considerably higher and requires leaning the bike toward you, then bending your leg at the knee in order to get your foot over. The construction also does not allow you to hop off the bike sideways as you're coming to a stop, as some get accustomed to doing on a step-through.



For comparison: The standover height on my Gazelle loop frame is 18.5", whereas the standover height on my Royal H. mixte is 24" - a substantial difference. Some find the mixte standover to be too high for the easy on-off they seek in a transportation bike.



3. The Mixte is Comfortable



Don't count on it. I've discussed this in an earlier post about buying a vintage mixte, but I still get lots of "I got this nice townie bike, but it's so uncomfortable!" emails, so I wanted to bring it up again. Mixte bicycles look cute and so we tend to assume they are easy to ride. But most of them are essentially roadbikes with upright handlebars, and road geometry does not make for the most relaxed and comfortable ride. Roadbike geometry also presents logistical problems, such as short chainstays making it more difficult to carry panniers, and toe overlap making tight turns trickier.



It is not impossible to find a comfortable mixte. If you're buying vintage, look for one that is a touring and not a road model, and is made of cro-moly steel. If you're buying new, I know that the Rivendell Betty Foy is a comfortable bike, and I've heard good things about the Soma Buena Vista's ride quality as well. And then of course there is the custom route, where the framebuilder can ensure that comfort is a priority. But there is nothing about the mixte design that is inherently comfortable; you will need to put some time into research and test rides.



I hope that all of this does not come across as overly negative. Having gotten one custom made, I am obviously a fan of mixtes. But I do think that it helps to have a realistic understanding of what sort of bicycle a mixte is - which includes not only knowing its benefits, but also its limitations. If you are a mixte owner, what make and model do you ride? how have you set it up? do you use it for transportation or recreationally? and what benefits and drawbacks would you say it has?

Heliconia Success

A few months ago, I collected about twenty seeds of a low-growing tropical heliconia that was, despite frost, thriving outdoors in the open. I brought the seeds home and scattered them in a trough of soil, and now they have germinated. I read that they can take up to ten months to germinate, so it seems to be a miracle that the seeds have grown in the dead of winter. The species is Heliconia psittacorum. The picture on the right shows a flower on the plant from which I collected seed.

Pictures of me

Here I am on the farm.



Here's my "go to town" look.



Here's how I look when I'm asleep. My hair gets a little messed up. I think I snore.



Via the South Park Character Generator.

Thanks to Happy and Blue 2 for the link.

Impressions of Zion

There are many trails at Zion that take you into some interesting places... The Emerald Pools (Lower, Middle, and Upper), which weren't green (at least they weren't when I was there). This waterfall is cascading into the Lower Emerald Pool and soaking anyone who dares walk beneath it, though this young man doesn't seem to mind getting all wet.

Weeping Rock - so porous that water seeps through it and a variety of plants grow on its walls.

Along the river were many trees with oddly shaped roots. This one wasn't too far from my campsite.

On the eastern side of the park, through a tunnel (a marvel of engineering completed in 1930) is Checkerboard Mesa.

And the eastern side is also where you might see Bighorn Sheep. I was lucky and saw several on this day. (I wasn't very close, these were taken with the 7x zoom magnification.)


Of course, spring flowers were in bloom. Not covering massive areas (as in California) but quite a few scattered here and there, and in the most unusual places. Like on the side of a canyon wall or in the crevice of a rock.


There was only one thing (and lots of that one thing) that even slightly marred my stay at Zion National Park. Worms. Though technically I guess they were caterpillars. They were creepy, crawly things. Lots of them. And they really liked my red tent. I mean, really. Every morning and every night and whenever I'd notice them, I'd pick them off the outside of the tent, 10 or 15 at a time.

The afternoon of the day before I left, I took the tent down. First I picked them off of the outside and from under the “skirt” along the bottom. Some were harder to remove because they had started creating their little cocoon. Once I had them all off, I started folding up the tent, but I kept seeing them as I closed up the poles. At first I thought the wind was blowing them off the trees, but I didn't see any flying through the air! Then I realized they were inside the “loops” where the support poles go. Oh, yuck. And some of them had also started making their little cocoons. It took forever (about two hours) to get them out and I'm not positive that I got them all. I haven't put the tent up since I left Zion but I have visions of little critters (Caterpillars? Moths?) coming at me when I do finally open it up again!

Even with that, my stay at Zion was incredible. The weather was perfect most of the time. Sunshine. Warm but not too warm for comfortable hiking. Nights and mornings were on the chilly side but nothing extreme and it warmed up nicely when the sun came up. The wind was strong several days but mostly just a light breeze. Near perfect conditions. Great hikes. Nice camping neighbors. Marvelous scenery. 'Nuff said.

Dill Pickle Bags: a Local Delicacy

There once was a girl from West Medford







whocould trackstand for hours without effort.







And then in one go,







some bags she would sew,



eating pickles whilst cycling backward...



Dill Pickle bags have a cult status around these parts. "Brevet tested, randonneur approved," the bags are made by fabled long distance cyclistEmily O'Brien. Over the years I'd hear snippets of stories about her, told in hushed tones ("Don't you know she did Paris-Brest-Paris on an old fixed gear bike, subsisting on nothing but pickles and chocolate milk?").











Then I met and befriended Emily: the approachable, mischievous creature who I now have the fortune to ride with when she is not off doing things like this. And while everything they say about her is true (well, mostly - her fixed gear bike Archie weighs a mere 30lb, not 60lb as some would tell it!), the popular portrait leaves many things out. For instance, her music career. Her ties to Europe. Her tomato garden, yarn spinning and knitting. Her gloriously warped sense of humor. And, of course, her talent for bicycle-themed limericks. I hope she enjoys the one I composed in her honour (it was tough to find words that rhymed with Medford, but lines ending with Emily or O'Brien proved tougher still, so Medford it was!).





I remember fondly my first visit to Maison du Dill Pickle. The foyer is filled floor to ceiling with all kinds of bikes. New bikes, old bikes, frankenbikes, parts of bikes. There are also many wonderous doohickies, and, of course Dill Pickle bags of various vintages, colour schemes, and states of use.






The workshop is in the attic. Two work stations with sewing machines. A table for measuring and cutting. Boxes with cloth and supplies. Rolls of fabric and ribbon everywhere. Patterns and mysterious notes taped to the walls. Iced coffee and popsicles on a hot summer day.





Pickle jars are everywhere. It appears they function as paper weights.






As I photograph, Emilystarts to make a bag from scratch to show me her process, chatting easily all the while. She draws then cuts out a pattern.Soon she is at the sewing machine.






As I watch her fingers dance just millimeters from the needle, I remember the first - or maybe second - time we met up for a ride. Emily was drinking a smoothie as she serenely navigated her way through a busy intersection. I watched this with horror/awe from a bench across the road. I'd arrived early and was sitting there, eating, with all my things strewn across the bench. Upon reaching me Emily hopped onto the sidewalk and remained on her bike - trackstanding, while chatting, drinking her smoothie and gesticulating, both hands off the handlebars - for what must have been at least 5 minutes while I finished eating, refilled my waterbottle, put my gloves and glasses back on and got ready to go. The way she works reminds me of this: the easy multitasking; the amazing coordination. She works quickly and calmly, and she makes it look easy and natural.






For hours, we talk about design. Function vs form. Desire vs experience. Classic vs modern. We discover there are projects we would like to collaborate on. Camera bags! Handlebar bags! Quick-release briefcases! So many ideas.





To start with, I take home a standardsmall saddlebag to demo and provide feedback. Rummaging through a box of ready-made bags, we find a black and tan one that seems to suit my bike, and I ride away with it - a list already forming in my head of all the changes I'd like to make if I were to get a custom one for myself. Nix the mesh pockets, I'm thinking. Fewer drawcords and loops.








But after riding with the bag for a few weeks, I no longer want to change anything except the colour. The beauty of the small saddlebag, I realise, is that it maximises carrying capacity while minimising the profile and weight of the bag itself. In that sense, it is such a successful design, such a perfect balance of features (and lack thereof) that I cannot think of a single improvement without making the bag worse in some other sense.








Made of lightweight, durable cordura, the bag cinches and expands while retaining a narrow, under-the-saddle profile. In its most compact form, it the size of a large saddle wedge. In its expanded form, it offers as much storage capacity as many full-sized saddlebags - without the bulk or the width.






The main compartment is lined with a waterproof fabric. As someone who has ridden hundreds of miles in the rain(at a time!), Emily considers this feature important. Inside is an optional zippered pocket, with another one on the inside of the top flap.






The drawcord allows the bag to expand or cinch as necessary.





Optional reflective loops are designed to carry a mini-pump across the top of the bag. The mesh pockets on the sides and top are optional as well, but the more I used the bag, the more I discovered just how much I liked using them; it was like having extra jersey pockets. Everything that is not water-sensitive can be stored in them, and they are easy to reach into while cycling. On long rides, I found it extremely convenient to stuff the mesh pockets with food: Not only was it easy to access, but the size of my bag diminished over the course of the ride, since the mesh is collapsible and almost weightless.






The bag's closure system is simple, quick, light, and replaceable in case of eventual wear or breakage.






The strap is expandable, with the excess length folded over and held in place by a clip. It took me a bit to learn how to clip back the strap properly, and on my first ride it fell out and drove me nuts rubbing against the rear tire before I realised what it was (what is that sound?). But I did get it eventually.






The attachment system uses cam buckles, making attaching and removing the bag, as well as adjusting its position, very convenient. This is a useful feature for those who take their bag on and off, or switch it from one bike to another frequently, but don't want a permanently installed quick-release system. The bag can be attached either to saddle loops, or to saddle rails - making it compatible with a variety of saddles, including racing saddles.






At the end of my testing period, I had to admit that while the bag was somewhat more contemporary-looking than what I am normally partial to, its design and functionality suited my needs for a compact and easy to remove roadbike bag pretty much perfectly. As it happened, the bag was also just big enough to swallow my DSLR camera. I had been looking for a minimalist single camera carry system for a while, and this seemed like a good candidate. The only problem was padding. I have a 3-compartment camera insert from Zimbale that fits into wide saddlebags the size of the Carradice Barley and the Zimbale 7L bag. So I suggested Emily make a single-camera insert to fit the Dill Pickle Small Saddlebag. As Emily regularly makes padded inserts for musical instruments, this proved to be an easy task.






So now I have my own Dill Pickle bag, which is also the Small Camera Bag prototype. In construction it is more or less identical to the standard Small Saddlebag. For the exterior fabric, I chose olive-green cordura with reflective trim.







Some have pointed out to me that the bag would look more "classic" without the mesh pockets. That may be so, but the mesh pockets are fabulously useful and I couldn't live without them.







Besides, since my bike itself is pretty modern I think the aesthetic is appropriate.The proportions work pretty well, too.






For the waterproof interior fabric and the insert I chose gray, which looks almost sky blue next to the olive cordura.






The removable padded camera insert is made out of 3/8" closed cell foam. The flap tucks in for extra security. The zippered compartments inside the lid and bottom of the bag remain free for basic tools. Alternatively, tools can be kept in the mesh pockets if they do not require waterproofing (or wrapped in a plastic bag if they do).






The insert is shaped to the inside of the bag and will accommodate a range of "prosumer" grade DSLR cameras with small prime lenses. For example, my Nikon D90 with a 35 or 50mm lens fits with room to spare. Basically, this bag accommodates a scenario that I find myself in frequently: I am going on a fast ride and I want my bike to be unencumbered. But I also want to bring a "real" camera and get some nice shots. This setup will allow me to do just that, with minimal hassle. It won't fit an entire photographer's kit with multiple lenses, and it won't fit a huge zoom lens. But I can choose a small prime lens and I'll be able to get some quality shots without attaching more bag than I need to the bike.






One idea we toyed with when discussing the insert prototype was making an extra compartment for batteries, memory cards and the like. In theory the empty space around the lens leaves room for this. But ultimately we decided against it, because we wanted the standard insert to fit as many differently shaped cameras as possible. That said, custom inserts tailored to specific camera and lens combinations can be made as well - as can slightly larger, or differently shaped camera bags. But the beauty of this particular bag, is that it's the standard, compact small Dill Pickle bag made more versatile still with the addition of a removable insert. As I see it, the prototype insert is ready to go as a standard-production accessory.






Dill Pickle bags can come in many shapes, sizes and colours, and Emily is always game for custom orders.Of course as with everything, these bags are not for everyone. If you prefer leather, tweed and brass, there are other manufacturers who are more appropriate. What Dill Pickle bagsare known for are their lightweight materials, function-first designs, and aesthetics that are highly customisable within those parameters. There are lots of cordura colours to choose from, as well as trim, ribbon, lining, and closure mechanisms.






The retail prices - starting at $170 for a small saddlebag - are what they have to be, considering the bags are handmade locally. The more affordable mud flaps are a mere $22 a pair. I would try some, but I almost never have fenders on my roadbikes (I know, I know).






What I will be trying soon is a new handlebar bag prototype and a couple of other interesting products. Emily lives in the next town over and our similar work schedules allow us to ride, talk and brainstorm together, which can yield interesting results when both parties are bike-obsessed. Who knows what contraptions lie ahead. For those interested, here are some shots of the Dill Pickle workshop, and more shots of the small saddlebags here.

How Do You Choose a Winter Bike?

With the snow bound to arrive any week now, I am hearing local cyclists talk about "winter bikes" again. Before my first winter of cycling, the very notion surprised me. You're supposed to ride a different bike in the winter than you do during the rest of the year? why?? But then I understood that not everyone's transportation bicycle is a "tank" that is already winter-proof. Some bikes are more suitable for winter conditions than others. And while there is no one bicycle that is universally considered to be the ideal winter bike, there are certain characteristics most cyclists would probably agree are beneficial for winter commuting in snowy climates:




Stability:One reason the number of cyclists decreases so dramatically in the winter, is that cycling on ice and snow is scary. On the right bike, it is much less so. A winter bicycle should handle well on slippery, snowy, muddy and plow-ravaged winter roads. City bicycles and mountain bikes tend to do best in this respect. Those who commute on aggressive bikes during the warmer months may prefer a more relaxed and more upright bike for winter, with wider tires. If there is a great deal of snow where you live, studded tires could be a good idea, or at least knobby tires. Tame, predictable handling becomes much more important than speed in the winter months. Stepover is another factor to consider. A slippery road surface can make it easier to lose one's balance when mounting and dismounting a bike, and even those who normally ride diamond frames might prefer their winter bike to have a step-though frame or a sloping top tube.




Reliability:Related to the above, it is important that the bicycle's crucial functions - in particular, braking power and shifting ability - are not compromised by winter conditions. Rim brakes and derailleur gears can function poorly (or not at all) if clogged with snow or frozen over, which is why many prefer for their winter commuter to haveenclosed hub brakes and hub (or single speed) gearing.




Durability:Understandably, cyclists may not want to expose their nice bikes to freezing temperatures and road salt, for fear that doing so might damage the frame and components. This is why some recommend getting a "beater bike" for the winter. Personally I am uncomfortable with this advice, because a beater bike is unlikely to be reliable (see above). The approach I prefer is to get a bike that is not vulnerable to the elements in the first place. A tough paintjob, stainless and aluminum components where possible, hub gears and a chaincase should get your bike through the winter relatively unscathed with little maintenance.




Visibility: Not only does it get dark much earlier in the winter months, but snowfall can further decrease visibility - making good lighting more crucial than ever.




Presentability:Just because it's winter, does not mean that we are no longer expected to look presentable at work. With road conditions messier than ever, it is important that a winter bicycle be equipped with features that protect the cyclist's clothing: full fenders, and ideally a chaincase or chainguard.




Taken together, these features suggest a number of candidates that could work especially well as winter bikes. If buying new, fully equipped classic city bikes are worth looking into: They already offer hub gears, hub brakes, a full chaincase, a resilient powdercoated frame, stable handling, generous fenders and reasonably wide tires. Recently I wrote about city bikes with mountain bike heritage, which might be particularly appropriate due to their super-stable handling. For those who prefer to put a bike together from scratch, frames with horizontal dropouts (suitable for hub and single speed conversion) and clearances for reasonably wide tires are now easily available from a number of manufacturers: Soma, Surly, Rawland, Rivendell, Salsa and Velo Orange are just a few that come to mind. For extreme conditions there are even all-terrain models that will fit monstrously wide tires, such as the Surly Pugsley and Moonlander, and the Salsa Mukluk. If you prefer to refurbish a used bicycle, an old mountain bike converted to a single speed and fitted with some upright handlebars could work nicely. Same with a vintage 3-speed, fitted with a modern wheelset with hub brakes.




It goes without saying that not everything mentioned here will be applicable to every cyclist who reads this. The kind of winter bike that is ideal for you will depend on everything from the harshness of your winters, to the character of your route, to your bike handling skills, to your bike storage situation, to the amount of time you are willing to devote to bike maintenance, and to the type of clothing you wear when cycling for transportation. Your current bike may already be a winter bike, either as is or with minor modifications. Or you may need to get an additional bike specifically for winter cycling. My own preference gravitates toward classic city bicycles, and those I've owned have made great winter bikes. But I've been increasingly curious to try a mountain bike with knobby tires and see how that compares. What is your idea of a winter bike?