The Everyday Spooky

I am going to be honest here: I considered doing a contest or a funny story for Halloween, but I am just not in the mood.

After a few days back in the US, I have to admit that cycling here has required some major re-adjustment on my part. Having initially set out with the same relaxed attitude I'd acquired after only a couple of weeks in Vienna, I immediately experienced a "welcome home" reminder consisting of close-calls with doors flinging open, drivers refusing to yield when I have the right of way, the works. Cycling here is spooky. Having not ventured abroad for over a year prior to my recent trip, I guess I've managed to trick myself into forgetting that.

Once in a while I write about how much conditions have improved here in Cambridge and Somerville since I began cycling in Spring of 2009. But just as often I question myself: Have they really improved that much, or have I just become more aggressive, less sensitive, and more willing to accept risks in response to the reality of how (bad) things are? Probably a bit of both, and it's so difficult to see objectively. Coming back from Las Vegas a month ago, cycling in Boston seemed like paradise. Coming back from Vienna, it seems like a war zone. 

While I maintain that I am "not an activist," of course I care about cyclists all over the world having safe and pleasant travel conditions. Everyday cycling should not be a scary experience, and some day I hope it won't be. 

The Grass Is Greener... On the Marsupial Bicycle Bag

With the gloomy weather outside, this seemed like a good time to feature the most unusual pannier I have been asked to review so far: the Grass Shopper from Marsupial Bicycle Bags.

I received this pannier shortly before leaving for Vienna, so I took it with me and tested it on Jacqueline.

If you are wondering whether this is what it appears to be, the answer is yes: The pannier is constructed from Astroturf (single piece, folded and riveted).

Made in England, these bags can be purchased directly from the manufacturer online, with prices starting at £50.

The Grass Shopper is available with a variety of (faux) flower attachments and matching inner linings. I chose the poppies with the red lining. The bag arrived with the flowers in a little packet inside, and an envelope full of green zipties, requiring a bit of DIY. I felt like a kindergartener engaged in an arts and crafts project as I sat on the floor with my housemate arranging the poppies and attaching them to the bag. The nice thing about doing this yourself, is that you can spread the flowers into any configuration you want and every bag will look a bit different. 

The Grass Shopper is available in one of three configurations: as a pannier with hook attachments (the version I got), as a pannier with strap attachments, or as a KlikFix compatible front basket. The hooks on my version are plastic and very similar to the ones Basil uses. Some racks' tubing diameter will be too thick for these, so be aware.

Inside the bag is an expandable waterproof lining that can be pulled closed with a drawcord.  There are no compartments, as it's intended as a shopper. The interior was spacious enough to swallow my workbag whole with room to spare.  

An optional shoulder strap attaches via plastic hooks. A leather tab in the rear can serve as a tail light attachment.

To be perfectly honest, I am not entirely sure how to "review" this bag. It is obviously meant to be a fun item, for those who are into colourful and quirky accessories. In that respect, it certainly succeeds. Me, I prefer a more classic style, but I know plenty of women who'd love it. From the standpoint of functionality, the choice of materials actually makes a great deal of sense: The bag is waterproof and durable. However, as a bag intended to be a shopper, I felt it was missing handles. The shoulder strap didn't quite do it for me, as it would start to slide out of adjustment and expand (lengthen) when the bag got too heavy. I would also suggest replacing the currently offered hooks with the R&K KlikFix system, which is compatible with a wider range of bicycle racks. 

When I rode around Vienna with the Grass Shopper, it was a great hit with the cycling ladies, and before I left I gave it away to a local reader who fell in love with it. Marsupial Bicycle Bags are a fairly new business and I wish them the best of luck with these fun and cheerful bags. The choice of flowers and the attachment customisation options are nice, allowing the owner to put a personal touch on their bag. It's difficult for me to judge whether these are too wild to appeal on a large scale, but they will certainly brighten up a gloomy day in an instant. Not a bad idea for long urban winters.

Winter Follows Me Around

When I complained about the unseasonably cold weather in Vienna, the Co-Habitant comforted me with tales of 60 degree temperatures back in Boston. Imagine my dismay when I came home to this. 

Snow, in October! I went for a 25 mile ride wearing layers of wool and a down vest, my nose running the entire time. 

The sun helped me warm up, but even as late as mid-morning there were some icy patches on the Minuteman Trail, and cycling over slippery wet/ frozen leaves was especially treacherous. 

But I realise that I've reached a level of being comfortable on the bike where I will actually cycle over slippery leaves and frost-covered brickwork intentionally, just to see what happens. So far, nothing. Once my rear wheel skidded a little, but that was all. I am trying to develop a feel for traction on a fixed gear bike, so that I can be more confident once it starts snowing properly... but I am not sure I understand it.

Last winter the transition from riding a roadbike almost daily to not at all was very difficult for me, and I am trying to mentally prepare myself this time. I had been counting on at least another good month of cycling before the snow, but apparently nature has other plans and I will have to adapt (i.e. get the trainer out from under the bed). Of course I will still keep cycling for transportation, but last winter that did not feel like enough. What are your winter cycling plans?

Stem-Pad, How to Make Your Own

Hello and Welcome,
Before I begin, I would like to remind you to check the "Video Of The Week" section from time to time. I have added a couple very good videos in the past week. One is a tutorial about adjusting a rear index derailleur. The other is a video showing the proper way to skid your fixed gear bike. As of late I have been learning to ride my fixed-gear conversion. "The Skid" is a lot tougher than it looks in the video. This post is a direct result of my learning to skid experience.
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Above: Probably not the best stem for a fixed gear bike. Especially as the frame is about 5 or 6 cm too big for me, as is my belly. OK so I watched the "Skid Video" and thought "I can give this a shot". How hard can it be? Answer: Really Hard. As I pushed my considerable girth forward to take some of the weight off the rear wheel. I got this bugger poking me in my lower abdomen. I did manage a few really short (and painful) skids. Afterwords I knew I had to do something about this "Stem in the Gut" situation.

Above: This is a 6ft piece of foam pipe insulation, cost under 2.00 U.S. It is available in different sizes, So you should be able to find a good fit for your stem.

Above: All you need to cut this stuff is a fairly sharp pair of household scissors.
First bend it while holding it next to your stem and cut-off an approximate length piece. Don`t worry if it is a little long, you can trim it latter.

Above: The foam comes already split length wise. Centering the split towards the front of the bike cut a notch right at the point where the stem turns. You notice I cut the top angle different than the bottom. This is so the foam will will fit properly after it is folded and placed onto the stem.

Above: As you can see here I cut another notch in the foam tube so I could continue it all the way over the top of the handle-bar clamp. You can end yours where ever you want. If you don`t get it right the first time, No Worries, You still have another 5 feet of tube left.

Above: You can now tape it into place "as is" with electrical tape if you like. I`m going to coat mine with 3M Trim and Detailing Tape. Notice I have not taped over the fold area, I will do that last.

Above: Now I start applying the Trim Tape from the opposite end. I leave the area where the fold is untaped till last. Then I folded the tube and placed the last pieces of tape in place while keeping it folded. When finished it should hold it`s shape.

Above: Here you can see I cut the tape long enough to wrap the edges on the foam-tube. This should help it last longer and not soak up moisture on the edges. I did not worry about covering the bottom facing edge.

Above: Here I am checking the fit. Now I will pop it into place and secure it with pieces of the same trim tape.

Above: Here is the finished stem-pad. This one is literally "over the top" just like the graphics. Remember you can make yours any size and color you want. With the left-overs you can make stem-guards for the kids BMX or Mountain Bikes as well.
If you consider how many stem-guards you can make with a 6 ft piece of foam pipe insulation and one good roll of plastic trim tape. Well the cost per guard has got to be ridiculously low.

Enough with the Stem-Guard pictures already! That`s the last one, I promise.

***UPDATE*** Yesterday I removed the pad and lowered the stem. Then I trimmed the pad to fit. Why is it the simplest solution is sometimes the hardest one to find?
While the frame is still to tall for me, this is a huge improvement. I even managed to do a little skid in my driveway!
Until Next Time Please RIDE SAFE and Remember to always RESCUE, RESTORE & RECYCLE ..... Cheers, Hugh

Coming Soon! The Rock-Hopper FS gets some badly needed attention.

Which Bike for Long Rides?

After I wrote about completing my first 100 mile ride on an upright bicycle with an internally geared hub, I've received emails from readers asking to elaborate on the difference between doing long rides on a roadbike versus an upright bike. Previously, I had written that I prefer to ride a bicycle with drop bars for rides longer than 30 miles, and that I prefer to wear cycling clothing on long rides. Yet here I was riding 100 miles on a city bike wearing street clothing. Did I change my mind? Am I saying that roadbikes are unnecessary after all?

The short answer is that I think it's all a matter of context. I never did - and still don't - claim that one type of bike is categorically "better" than another. Instead, I think that any cyclist would benefit from considering their specific set of circumstances, preferences and abilities - and planning accordingly. Here are just a few factors that I think are worth taking into account:

Terrain
Having experienced both, I cannot stress enough how different it is to cycle on hilly versus flat terrain. There is a reason why I did not attempt a 100 mile ride on an upright IGH bike in Boston (and don't plan to), but was comfortable doing so in Vienna: With Vienna as the starting point, it is possible to choose a fairly flat route along the Danube River. Starting from Boston, there is no direction I could possibly go in where I would not encounter hills. Based on past experience, I know that to cycle in hilly New England, I prefer to be on a derailleur-geared roadbike with drop handlebars, and to wear cycling-specific clothing. And based on past experience, I know that the same degree of cycling-specific preparation is not necessary for the flat Danube cycling path. In fact, I regularly encounter cyclists there who are in the middle of a cross-country tour, riding upright bikes laden with panniers. It works for them, as long as they do not deviate from the river trail. On the other hand, I almost never encounter cyclists riding anything other than roadbikes in the hilly areas outside Boston.

Of course, your definition of flat vs hilly could be different from mine. After all, there are those who complete Paris-Brest-Paris on upright bikes. Essentially, only you can know whether you would be comfortable tackling a particular route on an upright bike - bearing in mind that climbing one hill on the way home from work is not the same as climbing hill after hill over the course of a long ride.

Pace 
Not all cycling is the same, and a "100 mile ride" does not really describe anything other than milage. Do you prefer to ride fast or slow? Do you have a time limit in mind? Do you plan to take frequent breaks, or to cycle with as few interruptions as you can manage? On the upright bike, I did my 100 mile ride in 10 hours including breaks (8.5 hours not including breaks). Had I been training for a randonneuring event or even taking part in a charity ride, that kind of timing would be unacceptable. I knew that I had all day and was fine with cycling at a leisurely pace, so none of that mattered. But had I wanted to cycle faster, I would have chosen a roadbike even on flat terrain.

At least for me, speed also informs my clothing choice. When I cycle fast and in a roadbike position, I tend to get overheated quickly. For that and other reasons (fluttering, chafing), I prefer to do fast rides wearing cycling clothing, whereas for slower rides street clothing is fine. Again, your experience here may differ.

Companions
If you plan to cycle in a group, large or small, it is worth taking into consideration what types of bikes the others will be riding. If everyone else will be riding a roadbike, chances are that you will not be able to keep up on an upright bike. If everyone else will be riding an upright bike, it is an entirely different story. I did my 100 mile ride alone, so there was no issue of keeping up with others.

Comfort
Everyone's idea of "comfort" is different. Some have back, neck or shoulder issues that make it difficult to ride a roadbike. Others report being in extreme discomfort after too much time on an upright bike, finding that their weight is not distributed sufficiently, or else the handlebars don't allow for enough hand positions. To a great extent, these things also depend on a specific bicycle's geometry. That is why it is also important to build up to longer rides - so that you have some warning at what point a particular bike becomes uncomfortable. I knew that I could ride a Bella Ciao bike for 30+ miles without discomfort, and I decided to take the chance. After 100 miles, I did find the limited hand position insufficient and tried to wiggle my hands around as much as possible to compensate - which more or less worked, but was not ideal. Less weight on my butt would have made me more comfortable as well, though lowering the handlebars helped.

Preferences
I know that many of my readers simply do not like roadbikes and do not like the idea of riding in cycling-specific clothing - so they want to hear that it's possible to complete long rides on an upright bike while dressed "normally." If that is your situation, that's fine. Simply start with that premise and take it from there. If you live in a hilly area but aren't a strong enough cyclist to tackle the hills on an upright bike, then it could be worthwhile to travel to a flatter region in order to complete the ride: Do some research and then take the train or drive to a suitable location, if that's what it takes. Why not?

I love all kinds of bicycles and am excited by the myriad of possibilities out there for different cyclists, different types of terrain, and different riding styles. From relaxed family touring along river valleys on upright bikes to pacelining up mountains on aggressive roadbikes, anything is possible. And I think that's great. If you have any tips based on your own experience, please do contribute. What is the longest ride you've ever done, and on what bike?

Low-Trailing and Didn't Even Know It

From the first time I rode a vintage Steyr Waffenrad in Vienna two years ago, its handling impressed me as unusual; categorically different from other classic city bikes I've tried, vintage or modern. Despite being large and heavy, the bicycle is extremely maneuverable. The cycling paths in Vienna are narrow and twisty, often requiring cyclists to make tight turns. I can do so on this bike at speed, without much effort. I cannot make the same turns on my Gazelle at home, or even on my roadbikes, in the same easy manner. Additionally, the bike feels easy to control and "place" when going downhill. In the summer of 2010 I rode it up an then down a small mountain on the outskirts of town via a winding road. I thought I'd be riding the brake the entire way down, but the bike was able to follow the curve of the road with extreme precision.

On the downside, I have already mentioned that the front end handling at slow speeds takes getting used to, requiring a very light touch. When I first start riding this bike after a long absence, it shakes so much that I always wonder whether the front wheel is loose. Then my body adapts to the handling and the shaking stops. Weird how that happens, and I even tell myself "Don't worry, remember that if felt the same way last time and then you got used to it." An hour later, I am invariably convinced that it is the best-handling bicycle in the world.

While I've felt these things on Jacqueline from the beginning, it was only later that I made the connection between these characteristics and low-trail geometry. I asked Wolfgang, the bike's owner about it, and while he does not recall the exact figure, he does believe it is a low trail bike. He also agrees that the Steyr Waffenrad bicycles have unique handling compared to other seemingly-similar city bikes. As someone whose cycling experience ranges from the velodrome to climbing the Grossglockner, he prefers this model as his own city bike and owns at least half dozen of them from different decades.

Jacqueline's being low trail would certainly explain why I was not surprised by the handling of the Randonneur we made: having already gotten used to some of the same characteristics, I now considered them within the range of "normal."

I will be leaving Vienna soon, and Jacqueline has already been returned to her owner. Wolfgang has an extra Steyr Waffenrad frame that can be mine if I want it, and I've been toying with the idea of building one up to see how it rides in Boston. I don't know though, it almost seems "wrong" somehow, as if Jacqueline belongs in Vienna. Of course the Boston version would be Jacqueline II... Funny how every now and again I think that I'm "done" with experimenting! But I do need to learn how to measure a bike properly - including angles, rake and trail.

On a side note: For anyone interested in pictures of Vienna's city center, I've posted some here - to give you an idea of what I meant earlier by the white Historicist buildings.

Fixed Gear Bike # 1 Finished

Hello and Welcome,
Before I start I would once again like to thank everyone who has checked-out the new Face-Book page for this blog. Considering the short time it has been up, I think it is doing pretty good. If you have not seen it yet, the link is in the right column. Just click on the logo "Hughs Bicycle Blog on Face Book" and you are there. Please show your support and click on "Like" while you are there.

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Above: A reader asked me recently where I found the white replacement hoods for the aero levers on the Centurion. I told them I can`t find them in white either. I just clean-up the old ones and re-use them. I have had this old set laying around here forever. I had to cut-off the top to make it non aero. I then used an old brake lever mud-guard off a mountain bike to fashion a cable end that would hide the cut and keep out the debris/rain.

Above: The handlebars wrapped with Specialized S Tape. The cork tape behind the lever are actually 3 separate pieces, tucked under the hood. This works better with an adhesive backed tape. Then I wrap the tape from the flat about (4&1/2 centimeters from the stem) to the lever. Then finish with white electrical tape.
To keep the black cable end or (dust cover)in-place I used a little bit of 3M automotive emblem adhesive under the flap. This adhered it directly to the hood.
It would have been much easier to just use the correct hood, but unfortunately I did not have one on hand.

Above: The very inexpensive White Origin 8 Track/Road Bike Saddle looks great. Although I need to experiment with finding the correct height and pitch for me.
As it is right now, it is very uncomfortable. Even though it has the "comfort groove" and a narrow nose and seems to be well padded. I mean it looks like it would be reasonably comfortable. But it is not and I`m not sure why. So this time I will make an honest effort to adjust it to my needs or comfort zone. UPDATE: I decided to move the saddle forward and pitch it down in front just a hair. What a difference feels 100% better. I still think the WTB Speed V Comp is a little more comfortable though. But I`ll give it some time before I make a change.

Above: The TEC-9 single fixed-gear crank set with 170 mm arms and 46 tooth CNC machined chain-ring. Which like my 14 tooth cog takes a 1/8 chain. This was kind of a hassle to install, as the square-taper hole in the crank arms is a little too small. I could only thread the retainer nut on about 1/2 way. I decided to file the taper down a little. The hand file did not work at all, so I decided to use an mini angle grinder. I was careful to not flatten-out the pitch on the tapered bracket spline ends. Also I was careful to grind each of the four sides for the same time approximately. After each time around I would test fit the crank. After about four attempts I was finally able to tighten the retainer nut. I still have a little flaw or curve in the chain-line. But plenty of unused thread left on the bracket spline end to work with. I will most likely give it one or two more times around with the grinder. It is extremely important not to grind off too much from the bracket spline. Grind it too much and it will bottom-out and the bracket spline will be useless. That is why I test fit it each time after grinding. When I am finished I want it to still require lots of torque to secure it. And I want to make sure I still have some depth left. In other words I do not want the crank flush with the flat surface on the end of the spline. When I check it I still want to have some depth there.

Above: After it was finished I decided to replace the pedals as well. So I returned the old pedals the the Rock-Hopper FA. And took these new ones off the Rock-Hopper. It just looked so good I needed to finish it. I`m probably going to sell the Rock-Hopper FA in "as is" working condition. I have not had much luck in "getting my money back" on mountain bike builds. I really need to re-think what I will and will not replace on a Mountain bike build.

Above: I think re-painting the fork was really the only way to go. It was so badly scraped there was no way any amount of graphics was going to make it look acceptable. And with the white piping on the seat stays, I think it gave the whole
thing some balance. I may have gone a little overboard on the graphics. But that's the great thing about vinyl. If you don`t like it, just warm it up and peel it off and try again.
Ok enough about all that. Lets see some pics of the finished project.

Above: A nice shot of the drive side with the morning sun filling in the back drop

Above: A shot of the left side of the bike. And yes it does have a kick-stand.

Above: A shot from the right rear of the bike

Above: I found the stem very uncomfortable as I pushed my weight (200lbs) forward to practice my skid today. I managed to skid the bike three times. The first two times I picked an area on the paved path that was covered with wet leaves. I figured I needed all the help I could get. The third skid was on a damp sandy spot in the parking lot.

Well that's about all there is for now. After a brief search of the internet for a suitable stem pad. I decided to make my own. It actually came out "pretty fair" especially for my first attempt. I remember what a disappointment the last stem pad I purchased was. It was "all logo and not much padding", or as they say in Texas "All Hat and No Cattle". I will be posting the "Do it yourself Stem - Pad" real soon. Till then, RIDE SAFE and Remember to Always RESCUE, RESTORE & RECYCLE
Cheers,Hugh

P.S. Please check out the new "Video Of The Week" on How to Skid a Fixed Gear Bike.
You will find it in the right column near the top right under the Face-Book link. I think you will find it interesting.

Kicking Back, Old School Style

When I wrote about the modern Sturmey Archer Duomatic hub last week, a reader pointed out that vintage coaster brake hubs have "more 'backlash' - so you have to rotate the pedals further before engaging the brake." I had noticed this as well after switching back and forth between bikes with modern coaster brake hubs (SA and Shimano) and vintage ones (SA and Sachs). 

My preference is for the older style. The position my legs tend to be in when braking with the older hubs feels more comfortable. And it is also more convenient to start from a stop: It is easier to arrange the pedals in the correct position when there is more "give" before the coaster brake is engaged.

I am sure there is a good reason why current coaster brake hubs are made so that they are quicker to engage. Anybody know what they are, and the history behind the change?

100 Miles on the Danube

After more than two years of meaning to but never quite working up to it, I have finally completed my first "century" - a 100 mile ride. It didn't exactly happen as I had envisioned it, but it happened nonetheless. And it was certainly memorable.

The bike you see here is what I rode: It is a Bella Ciao Neorealista with a 7-speed hub, front and rear caliper brakes, Brooks B17S saddle, 700Cx35mm Delta Cruiser tires, Berthoud fenders and MKS touring pedals - lent to me by Citybiker in Vienna (thank you!). I decided to try the ride on this bicycle, because it seemed the safest bet of the available options - the others being borrowing a cool roadbike from Wolfgang, or riding Jacqueline. With the roadbike, it generally takes me a while to "dial in" the positioning, and I had no time to experiment. With Jacqueline, I was worried that she might be too heavy and too old for such a long ride. So I took advantage of being able to borrow the Bella Ciao, which seemed to be somewhere in between as far as positioning and also had the benefit of modern components. I felt that I knew what to expect with this bike, since I have a similar one at home and have ridden mine for 30 mile stretches at a time. We lowered the Neorealista handlebars for a more aggressive posture, but otherwise nothing was altered. I was not sure that I'd actually be able to do the ride, but the plan was to go as far as I felt comfortable.

I had brought my Zimbale saddlebag from home and attached it to the bike before I set off. I have no pictures of myself during the course of this ride, but I was wearing pretty much this: wool tights, wool dress, 3/4 length wool overcoat, legwarmers, ankle boots with 2" heels, a hat, and (not pictured) gloves and a scarf. From the forecast I knew that the weather would be cold, mostly in the low 40s. In the event that I got too warm, I planned to take off my coat and attach it to the saddlebag with a bungee cord. In the event it got even colder, I packed an extra sweater. I also packed a pair of padded wool cycling shorts, in case my butt started to hurt on the way back. Aside from that, I packed battery-operated lights, a bottle of apple juice mixed with mineral water and salt, my camera, phone, bank card, cash, notebook, pen, and a packet of Ibuprofen. I did not bother taking a map - since I would simply be following the Danube cycle path.

Before I go on, I must warn you that my photographic documentation of this ride is disappointing. I passed some gorgeous spots, but it wasn't practical to stop and take pictures if I hoped to maintain momentum. So all my photos were taken during food-break stops, which did not necessarily coincide with the scenic moments. I am also disappointed that I do not have a single photo of myself during this trip, as a memento - but I was too cold to mess with the self-timer, and my camera is difficult for strangers to operate.

My trip did not begin according to plan. I had wanted to set off at 7:00 in the morning, but got delayed and was not able to leave until 10:00. With such a late start, I considered postponing to a different day - but my schedule was already full, so this was my only chance to do the ride. I went, making sure the batteries in my lights were fresh. The Danube Canal path is right around the corner from my flat, and within a minute of leaving the house I was on it. I sped through the urban part of the path, and within 15 minutes I reached the junction where the Danube Canal meets the Danube River proper.

I rode without stopping past all of my favourite spots in the countryside along the river and did not take a break until I approached the outskirts of Tulln - a town about 25 miles from the center of Vienna. Things were going well so far: It was cold, but sunny. I was only very slightly tired and nothing hurt or felt uncomfortable on the bike. It was around 12:00 noon, which meant I'd been cycling at 12.5mph on average for two hours straight. So far, so good. I stopped at a cafe with outdoor seating, and had a huge bowl of soup while looking at ships making their way along the river. The sunshine made everything look gorgeous. 

My plan was to continue on the Danube cycling path until I reached the town of Krems - a beautiful place in the Wachau valley. At this stage I was exactly half way. Unfortunately, this was the last time I would see nice weather during my ride.

Almost as soon as I got going again, the sunlight faded and the temperature fell. The change was sudden: One minute, everything was bathed in a golden light, and the next the landscape was grim. I was finding it difficult to warm up, even though the mostly flat route meant that I was vigorously pedaling the entire time (no hills means not only no climbing, but also no coasting!) I kept hoping the sunshine would return, but it only got more overcast as I continued cycling. 

And then, things got worse: A milky fog descended over the valley. In the middle of the day! Just after Tulln, the Danube path veers away from the river for a few miles, cutting through woods and farmland. The landscape now looked washed out and dingy. Visually I did not mind it, and even found the idea of cycling all alone through fog and desolate fields romantic. But it was difficult to keep warm. The freezing fog was penetrating all my wool layers and getting into my very bones - a deep chill. And then the wind picked up. I pedaled harder and kept my head down.

By 1pm, it became clear that the weather was not likely to improve. It was time for a change of plans: Krems was too good to see for the first time in such bleak light. Instead, I decided to go as far as Traismauer (a town 10 miles closer), and make up the missing miles by getting off the Danube path and doing a longer loop through some of the villages set back from the river. In doing so, I was also hoping to find a cafe that sold hot drinks, as all the ones along this portion of the Danube cycling path were closed for the season. 

As far as navigation went, it was not difficult to make my way through the villages. There were signs everywhere announcing what the next village was and which direction to Traismauer. But it was extremely depressing. In good weather, I think the villages would have looked cute. But under overcast skies and enveloped in fog they looked abandoned and sinister. There were very few people out doing any kind of farm work and the few places of businesses that existed were all closed - even though it was a weekday.

I passed though the centers of five or six villages before I finally found one with a functional cafe - which was on the side of a sort of country highway leading to Traismauer. After I drank 3 cups of tea and rested a bit, I spoke to the waitress and learned that this was in fact the only road leading to Traismauer. Hitherto I had been cycling along small village streets, but this was a big road with an 80km/h speed limit. I decided to go ahead and brave it.

My companions during this stretch of the trip were mainly trucks and tractors. The trucks went very fast. The tractors went very slowly. The odd sportscar would occasionally zoom past as well. We all got along and I never felt endangered. My stamina, on the other hand, seemed to be nearly depleted and I had barely even cycled 60 miles. Please do not underestimate what I wrote earlier about a flat landscape meaning that you don't have the opportunity to coast. Pedaling the entire time, I was starting to feel like a mechanical doll.  Traismauer was further away that I'd realised, and it felt as if I were cycling on the edge on that highway forever.

But finally, I was unmistakably there: This town was surrounded by a medieval wall and I cycled right through the gate. 

At one time there must also have been a moat. Now it was reduced to a sort of stream along the back part of the wall, with a modern bridge going across. 

Under normal circumstances, I might have been excited by Traismauer. But now I just felt depleted. The cold weather, the fog, the lack of sunshine, the non-stop pedaling with the wind in my face - it had all beaten me down. 

I circled around the town, then followed the signs to the train station. I am not proud of it, but yes - at this point I decided to cut my trip short and take the train back. It was already 3 pm and the most direct route home was over 40 miles. I didn't think I could handle it. At the station I learned that the next train to Vienna was not until 8:20pm, which was a long time to wait around. I decided to get something to eat while thinking about what to do next.

Turned out that I wasn't so much tired as just very hungry. Once I inhaled whatever it was that I bought at the food stand, my attitude suddenly improved and by 4pm I was ready to get back on the bike.

My plan now was to cycle the 15 miles back to Tulln - on the Danube cycling path and not through the villages this time - and see how I'd feel once I got there. The trains in Tulln ran more regularly, so if I was tired or did not want to continue in the dark, I would then take the train the rest of the way back. 

Energised by the nutritional infusion, I pedaled enthusiastically for the next hour. Just as the light was fading, the sun started to come out and the fog dissipated - but it was late and I really wasn't able to stop and capture the beautiful scenery. There is a stretch at some point where the cycling path interrupts entirely, and cyclists must transition to the road for 2-3 miles. The route is signposted, but these signs are very small and have no provisions for being seen in the dark. The scenario I wanted to avoid, was cycling through this stretch once it had already gotten dark. 

But of course, that is exactly what happened. I raced against the sunset, but despite my best efforts ended up cycling on the road with car traffic in rural darkness - squinting to find the signs instructing where to turn in order to get back onto the cycling path. It was just past 6pm now and there were lots of cars on the road - going quite fast, which was scary. I was starting to despair, when I noticed what was obviously another bicycle tail light in front of me. It was an elderly man, cycling with a sack of turnips strapped to his rear rack. I called out to him, asking if this was the right way to the cycle path. He replied that it was, and gestured for me to follow him. We "pacelined" for the next mile or so and then I followed him through an opening in the fields and we were on the Danube path. He then waved and turned around, and I realised that he'd gone out of his way only to show me how to get back on the path. I yelled "Danke vielmals!!" and waved wildly. This was my only interaction with another cyclist during the course of this ride.

Once in Tulln, I kept on going. It was already pitch black and my legs already felt as if someone else was controlling them, so it seemed I could just keep going this way. The last 20 miles of the trip felt like a trance. My headlight beam, the shadows of tree branches, the sounds of howling coming from the woods and the occasional lights of ships along the Danube felt like a dream. My wheels turned and turned and my feet pedaled and pedaled in as high as gear as I could manage. It wasn't a bad feeling, like an out of body experience. But I remember thinking "Hmm, I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow."

By the time my shaking hand retrieved the house key from my coat, it was almost exactly 8pm: 10 hours after I left. I had spent a total of an hour and a half taking breaks, which means that my average speed was 11.75 mph. I think that's not too bad for being on an upright bike and riding dressed as I was. I assumed that I would collapse upon coming home, but then a friend rang up and invited me for a drink. I went, and ended up staying out until midnight. The next morning I woke up at 8am and, to my astonishment, felt fine. I cycled around the city for transportation all day just as I normally do. There was hardly any evidence that I had ridden 100 miles the day before. My right shoulder was sore, and my sit bones were just a tad sensitive. However, there was no pain in my legs or knees, and I had plenty of energy. I expected to be wrecked, and this was almost anticlimactic. 

This trip was not how I'd imagined completing my first "century." I was riding a city bike bundled up in an overcoat, the weather was horrible, and the countryside was at its bleakest. But I found the experience fulfilling, beyond just checking off a box. I relished the feel of being self-sufficient - not in the safety net of a group ride or a companion's presence, but alone in the middle of nowhere, amidst a stark landscape in a foreign country, and feeling as if I did not need to worry, because I was on a bike and could therefore do anything. It's what cycling is about for me. And I think I'm ready for a longer ride.