As the trail grew tricky, I was about to turn around. And that's when I saw it in the distance - a tiny patch of red deep in the thick dark woods. I could not tell how far away it was. No doubt it was just someone's barn, but from a distance it looked mysterious and full of promise. It could be anything. As the sun began its afternoon decline, instead of heading home I made my way toward the red shape flickering in the dappled light.
Back in junior high, we had this scary patch of woods behind the school yard. They said an abandoned shack stood there, where in the '60s a serial killer had taken his victims. Children would go missing from the neighbourhood, and it was not until decades later that their disappearances were solved. Only the killer's remains were found in the shack. An old man by then, he must have died of natural causes. Or did he? Everyone knew there were
thingsin the woods where we lived. The kind of things that made ordinary mortal serial killers the least of our worries. This was what we 12 year olds thought about when a ball would fly over the chainlink fence at recess. We dared not go into those woods.
Cycling along the narrow trail, the memory of all this popped into my head, as did the horror flick Don't Look Now - where Donald Sutherland's character pursued what looked like a girl in a red coat only to find something dark and sinister. Did I really want to reach that red object deep in the woods? I laughed to myself, at myself. This was evidence of how unaccustomed I'd become to riding alone. I would not be having these thoughts with one of my cycling buddies around. It was the silence and the lack of any sign of human activity on the trail that lent itself to being shaped by my imagination.
Of course none of us had ever seen the abandoned shack. We knew there was a spot in the chainlink fence where you could lift it up and crawl under. My friend and I had been brave enough to do that - though once we did, we just stood there, too paralised with fear to venture furtherinto the woods. But 12 is an age of dares, pacts, and acts of courage. And one day we decided to find the shack. After school let out, we waited for the yard to clear. Then we ducked under the fence and kept walking before the fear could get the best of us. It was hard to know where to go. The woods were unkept and there were no trails to follow. Eventually we spotted what looked like a narrow overgrown path.It was late September, and the dry leaves made crunching sounds under our shoes. We heard no other sounds, not even birds.
Now too the woods were quiet as I rode through them. Where were the birds, the squirrels, the dog walkers? There was only the soft sound of my tires rolling over roots covered with a blanket of pine needles. I kept the red object in sight, but somehow it was no closer after 15 minutes of cycling. In fact, now it began to seem as if I had passed it. It occurred to me that it wasn't along the main trail, but deeper in the woods. And then I saw a path that seemed to lead toward it. It was overgrown. Covered in roots. Barely a path. But I saw no private property signs, so I turned and followed it.
That day after school we walked for what seemed like forever, though judging by the actual size of the lot it could not have been more than 5 minutes. We gasped when we saw it through the trees: A dirty white wall, surrounded by a heap of bricks where the rest of the structure had once stood. And we gasped once again when we heard footsteps behind it. My friend grabbed my arm, and we began to tremble, not sure whether to run or hide. And then they came out: A middle aged woman in overalls carrying a rake, and a teenage girl, a few years older than us, following her with a large burlap sack. They said hello and warned us about the poison ivy. "It's all over the place, girls. Do you know how to identify the leaves?" They were from the land preservation society. Cleaning up woods, labeling trees. We would have to wait until 8th grade to join. And the white shack? I looked it up years later. It was once a shop selling European auto parts, built in 1982 and abandoned after a fire. It could not have possibly been the hideout of a serial killer in the 1960s.
I knew I was on the right path, because the patch of red grew closer. The path became muddy and difficult to ride through, which only made my journey feel more important. It was damp here. Mosquitos circled and I could see a small bog through the trees to my left. The vegetation was mostly moss, ferns, and poison ivy. The latter slapped my bare legs, but, knowing myself to be resistant to it, I paid no attention. Now and then I dodged low-hanging branches. The mud thickened. Churning through it, I felt like a determined explorer - until finally, there it stood in front of me: A small red tool shed. No more, no less. Seeing it up close - a generic, prefab thing - even my overactive imagination had to acknowledge the complete lack of anything mystical about the structure or the atmosphere surrounding it. I was at the back of someone's property. And now I had to hurry back before dark, cycling through all that mud again.
How funny we are, with our love of setting goals, solving mysteries, inventing worthy destinations - when in actuality what we are after is the experience of the pursuit itself, the goal being just an excuse.
trip into town and we spent a short day at Meadow Run. We hopped right on Captain Caveman. Joel tried first since he hadn't had a chance yet... He fell a few times, but got up through it. I got on to give it a try. I wasn't feeling too positive due to the fact that I felt pumped from my previous day attempt. Surprisingly I sent Captain Caveman first try. Joel tied back in and promptly sent in fine style. Next Joel wanted to try Anger management M6+. He tied in started up. For mental pro he got a stubbie to go in ab
out 5 rotations till it hit rock then tied it off. Upward Joel went passing the first bolt and into the overhangs. Quickly learning that the 2nd bolt was way out of reach (now that the rodi stummp is gone), he backed off and down climbed to the ground. Having longer reach, I opted to go up and climb the route and installing a longer runner on the 2nd bolt so that Joel could make the clip. I went up to Joel's highpoint and worked into the clipping hook... What a looooong reach that clip is. Any shorter arms and I don't think I would've got it. I fired up into the ice finish, installing a near worthless screw at the lip, clipping it and gunning for the top. Seemed much harder than I remembered... Joel tied in and gave it a second go. He smoothed up throu
gh the route eventually pumping out at the lip. He hung body weight from the screw I placed and installed a 2nd (good) screw. He finished it without issue. He wanted to try again, but I had obligations and needed to leave. So we decided to leave fixed gear on the bolts for Joel when he comes back.
When I was first shopping for an upright bicycle with an internally geared hub, I made the natural assumption that the more gears on the hub, the better. But to my surprise, over time I changed my mind and developed a strong preference for the simple 3-speed. No more, no less: Three gears feel just right.I have been trying to make sense of why I prefer 3-speed hubs to the seemingly more advantageous 7-speeds and 8-speeds, and have a couple of ideas.
Internally geared hubs allow for a narrower range of gearing in comparison to derailleurs. And the overall range of the hub does not increase in direct proportion to the number of speeds.
My choice of transportation bicycles plays a huge role in the usefulness of the hubs as well. In my experience, bicycles that are heavy and put the cyclist in a bolt-upright position are simply not the best choice for trips with prolonged hills, regardless of how many gears are on the hub. If I max out a 3-speed hub going uphill on a heavy upright bike, chances are that I will also max out a 7 or 8 speed hub - in which case there is no real benefit to having those additional gears. If a route is too tough for a 3-speed, then what I prefer is a lighter and more sporty bike, ideally with derailleur gearing. A bigger hub on the same heavy upright bike does not do me much good.
While modern bicycles are commonly available with 7 and 8 speed hubs, for me the simpler 3-speed just seems to be a better solution. Your experience may differ - but before you choose a hub with many gears, try a 3-speed and compare for yourself. You might be as surprised as I was to discover which you prefer.
See more about Ziva or Zivy as we sometimes call her at http://thepuppytale.blogspot.com/
How dark does it get where you cycle at night? Some of us travel mostly on lit city streets, others in sparsely lit suburbs, and others still along pitch black country roads.
Last week I rode a good chunk of a 10 mile trip home in complete and utter pitch darkness. Even with my good LED headlight, I could only see a small part of the path ahead of me at a time, but eventually my eyes grew accustomed to the dark and I began to distinguish other clues. I went at a steady pace of about 12mph, which was sufficiently slow for me to recognise upcoming turns and obstacles on the road. A small fox trotted across my path once, crossing from one side of the meadows to another. I stopped and watched her wet fur glistening in my headlight beam, then continued on my way. At another point, a raccoon considered dashing to cross in front of me, but changed his mind and observed me from the side of the road as I cycled past him. I also encountered a few late-evening joggers and commuter cyclists, all of whom I was able to spot in advance at the speed I was going. Any faster though, and I don't think it would have been safe on that particular trail. Local cyclists are always ending up in hospitals from crashing into one of the gates and dividers that are placed there.
I have LED headlights on most of my bicycles now, and the Co-Habitant has just updated his Pashley's stock lighting with the Supernova E3.The front and rear standlight features are on the dim side, but we think that is due to the bicycle's barely adequate 2.4W dynamo hub. When in motion, the lights are super-bright.
While good LED lighting is important, I think that cycling in the pitch dark also requires a certain degree of skill, as well as knowledge of your bicycle's handling and familiarity with local terrain. What's the darkest you're comfortable with when traveling by bicycle?