Ladies and gents, boys and girls, all are welcome to the Swift Campout and guess what? It’s never too early to plan or sign up for this increasingly popular event. Simply go to the Swift Campout site to learn more! Remember, this is open to all and takes place Saturday, June 23rd. Check out our coverage of this great event on the Related sidebar.
Kris Henry at 44 Bikes recently completed this beautiful Marauder build, with a dual usage; touring bike and full-on trail attack mode. This 27.5+ platform is quickly adaptable for when that itch for wanderlust strikes. You can see the entire build process, from the cutting of tubes, to welding, and the final product over at the 44 Bikes Flickr.
We made the joke that the new bike from Surly, the Bridge Club was an homage to a card game. In fact, Surly’s newest bike is an homage to hanging out under the many bridges in Minneapolis. Those who work and design at Surly seek refuge under bridges, to wait out the elements and seek seclusion, so it’s fitting they’d name their newest tourer after this behavior.
Check out the Bridge Club in video!
The Beauty of Fatigue: Slow (SLO) Road to Eroica
Words by Tenzin Namdol, photos by Ultra Romance
Something happened to me while I was riding the 90-mile NOVA Coastal Route of Eroica California, I started loving the ride. A bit of a “duhhhh” moment, right? That may have had something to do with the skill and knowledge of the route-maker who has expertly joined some of the most stunning roads of San Luis Obispo County. From wineries to summits to the Oceans’ shore featuring some loosen-your-filling descents. I’m sure we could have easily found a dentist at Eroica to fix that last problem. So, not really a problem. It also helps to have beautifully cheerful people at rest stops handing you wine, chocolate-covered strawberries, and praising your athleticism. I felt so undeserving of such treatment, but that’s for me and my therapist to figure out together. Regardless, treatment like that could make a cyclist out of just about anyone.
It’s not that I didn’t like riding bikes before Eroica- far from it. My life for the last two years has seen me on a bicycle more often than not. I love riding the bike for my brain, for the freedom, for my soul. I’m a proud apostle of the Grant Peterson philosophy on cycling as a relaxation sport, it’s what got me into riding bikes in the first place. The Petersonians lean into the aesthetic, style, and most importantly, the comfort of pedaling around. Camp, go slow, respect nature, and wear wool. Where do I sign up? I dove into the deep end of the cycling pool in the form of clyco-touring. That is, making your bike weigh a ton and trudge through mountains and mud for no real purpose but to see the mountains and feel the mud dry on your legs.
There were five of us on the ambitious 200-mile route with 20k feet of elevation gain from Santa Barbara to Paso Robles: Jimmy, Mick, Bregan, Benedict and lil ole me. We ate Gibraltar Road, a roadie pilgrimage site, for breakfast. Actually, Jimmy and I had hard boiled eggs for breakfast at 4:00am on the train from LA to Santa Barbara. I offered one to Mick but he refused.
“You got something against eggs?” I pretend to be offended at his refusal.
“Not at all, I was an egg myself once.” retorts Mick with sincerity. Mick is really funny and really tough. I enjoyed many more dad-like jokes like this being passed between Jimmy and Mick throughout the journey.
The roads we all traveled together were beautiful and brutal at the same time. If the heat didn’t make me have visions of the Mother Mary, the 3 days of climbs surely did. I kept saying “With roads like these, who needs enemies?” in my head groaning at the curves of switchbacks that never end. I was obsessively looking at elevation profiles on my gps, counting each 100 ft of climbing with a silent celebration, expanding the elevation map so the inclines didn’t appear so severe to trick my brain. Manically keeping records of how long and often I took breaks from the climb, how often I got off the bike and walked, noting the number of steps.
Maybe I did kind of lose it out there but this is what I’ve done this past two years of extensive touring. I maniacally and obsessively manage my time on the bicycle. So much so that I forget to look up and around as much as I ought to. The saffron colored poppies begged for attention often grabbing at my ankles and leaving behind a golden hue on my skin as a stamp. The dead and burned branches of trees who still stand having endured the ravenous Thomas Wildfire reached out their skeletal hands in search of life. Swimming holes and streams of water flowed throughout the journey to lessen the burden of the sun. I dipped my sweat-soaked head into a hillside spring trickle with a hummingbird companion who had the same idea and goal of a cool off.
It would be inaccurate to say I didn’t see the beauty of the road through the mountains of Los Padres. I absolutely rejoiced at every false summit view of neverending mountains, gasped gleefully at every little lizard that barely missed the rubber side down
of my tires, honor saluted at every large winged bird soaring at similar elevations. Seeing Jimmy and Mick’s beautiful friendship as they splashed around the first swimming hole we found. There was much rejoicing. What was missing was the foundational understanding of the road as a friend. The kind of supportive friendship Jimmy and Mick have. The kind that gives you short flat areas even on those severe ascents. The kind that holds the world together with roots. The road is not a monster to be defeated but a kind ally in your journey, a sprite, a friend, and damn gorgeous.
The mania in my psyche and experience of bike touring had settled like dust on a windless day. Waiting to be re-animated, rabble-roused. It’s the kind of thing that happens in default mode of operation. You know how sometimes you’re so tired but still moving around until a mindful moment snaps you back to the present and you forget how you got there. I had forgotten my Petersonian pedigree and replaced solid cycling philosophy with anxiety and mania- my default operational mode. SO when I talk about loving the ride, I’m talking about the marriage of mindfulness and grit. A coupling that made quite the show for me at Eroica. Getting dropped by people double, maybe even triple your age on bicycles that have seen every war since the second was the moment that snapped me back to the present. Back to the essentials of cycling that transcends time, using a simple machine to see complex realities. The Petersonians know this. I needed two years and a few thousand miles to truly know this.
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Follow Nâm on Instagram and follow Benedict on Instagram.
After much online demand, Daniel from Tumbleweed has listed these beautiful, acid-free archival paper-printed desert prints on the Tumbleweed Online Store.
“Here is a limited edition 16”x24” high-quality print on archival paper with artwork by Bay Area artist Sean Hipkin. Prints will be shipped in a poster tube, and shipping cost is included in the price of the print”
Scoop one up at Tumbleweed.
“Where did all the mermaids go?” asks the new Crust Bikes Bombora and if you pay attention to the beautiful graphics, designed by Rick Hayward, and head badge on this touring bike, you might be able to decipher the story. The Bombora is the latest bike to pop onto the plump Crust Bikes lineup, designed around a 27.5 x 2.4″ tire and road cranks. Is it a light tourer? Or a randonneur? Or a dirt tourer? Bikepacking rig? City bike? Who knows. As Matt from Crust Bikes puts it;
“Named the Bombora, this machine is pretty groundbreaking, in that it is the first two-wheeled unicycle, designed around 2.3-24 650b tires and road cranks. Man, I cant hype shit up. Its just a bike that is fun to ride and in my opinion looks nice. The pictures show what it’s about I guess.”
Rightfully so. There’s more information to follow on the Bombora, but for now, let’s try to decypher this bike’s meaning – it’s place in the universe – by investigating more photos below.
Double dipping on brands isn’t something I like to do very often. What I mean is yesterday’s gallery featured Crust Bikes and today’s – obviously – is too. What I can’t ignore are the impressive details that went into this build and how much of a joy it was to shoot this bike. So I’m riding this wave of emotions and posting this bike immediately.
Scott’s Romanceur might just be my favorite Crust Bikes I’ve seen to date. Sorry, Poppi! So what makes this build so special? Well, for one, its build kit is well thought out, but not by any means standard. The components used are a healthy mix of classic and current, with a heavy nod to French constructeur builds. Gilles Berthoud is the brand of choice for all the leather work, yet the mix of Japanese drivetain components, updated with modern Wolf Tooth accoutrement. For instance, the Roadlink allows the use of older XTR derailleurs with cassettes like the E Thirteen wide range TRS+, all operated by a friction shifter. The classic Dura Ace cranks run a modern Wolf Tooth ring. From there, the build just gets better, with purple and blue anodized bits, including Phil Wood’s rear road hub and various bottle cage bolts. The front SON completes the hub selection, which are laced to Stans rims and rolling on Compass tires. These wheels are covered by Sim Works fenders with Gilles fender flaps. A Sinewave lamp is held to the Nitto rack by a chain ring mount hack. The Velo Orange bars are held by a Nitto stem, with a Cane Creek headset, and Mafac levers are paired with Paul Klamper brakes. One of my favorite details is the ultralight Tune skewer on the rear!
I can’t even describe how good this bike looks in person and can’t wait to see how it looks after a few months of use. Scott, if you’re reading this, I hope you enjoy riding this bike as much as I did shooting it!
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If you want a custom build like this and live in Los Angeles, hit up Golden Saddle Cyclery.
When you’re touring or bikepacking, you’ll find yourself over-stuffing your bags to fit it all on your bike. That’s when bags like these Dirtbags Four Deep Downtube Bags come in handy. Fit tent poles, hoagies, Sin Dawgs, or other touring essentials into these nifty bags. From the looks of things, they’re working on a similar bag, being tested on the Tour Divide right now.
Head over to Dirtbags to check out their product line.
It’s always fun to see projects like this unfold. A few years back, Josh from Avery County Cycles built this 650b light tourer up for a customer, who returned it shortly after due to it not fitting the size tire they wanted to ride. It’s a bummer for a builder to deliver a product that doesn’t please their client, but it happens. For a while, Josh just kept the frame as it hung in his shop. Eventually, Josh decided to close Avery County, and posted the frame up on his Instagram with a note saying it’s for sale.
Ryan is a customer at Golden Saddle and a regular. You’ll often find him ripping around on his Ritchey or hanging out at the shop on a Saturday afternoon. When he expressed an interest in building up a light tourer, Kyle showed him the Avery and they made it happen. Ryan built this bike with a mindful component selection, ranging from the rare Paul Component Van Halen Mini-Motos, to a Pass and Stow rack, Sinewave Beacon light, running from a SON hub and various other tried and true components. He wants to take this bike on a tour this summer, once he can get some time off work, but for now, he takes it all over the dirt roads surrounding this bustlin’ city.
Builds like this are really special, especially with the backstory on this frame.
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If you want a custom build like this and live in Los Angeles, hit up Golden Saddle Cyclery.
Doppo translates to “going alone.” On display at the Sim Works Pop-Up at the Cub House was the steel version of their Doppo ATB bike or all-terrain bicycle. We saw the aluminum version from the Chris King Swarm coverage, and we’ve seen this steel model in Japan being manned by Makoto during our Mount Fuji tour.
These frames are made by a builder in Nagoya named Shin Hattori, exclusively for Sim Works, and for the first time, they’re now available in the USA through Sim Works. They feature a number of braze-ons for racks and fenders, as well as a Tange fork with a unique fender mount. This particular model was built up with chubby 650b road tires and fenders.
The Doppo comes in size Small through XXL and will fit a 43mm tire on 700c or 2.1″ on 27.5″ wheels. A frameset retails for $1,680 shipped from Japan via FedEx. Head to Sim Works to see more!
Adam’s Performance Synapse
Photos by Spencer Harding, words by Spencer Harding and Adam
A little over a year ago Adam sent me a photo of a rigid 26” bike with a Crust Clydesdale cargo fork on it, which he said was his “baja divide rig.” This would be enough to strike fear into the heart of anyone receiving Nicolas’ emails about the Baja Divide Grand Depart exclaiming “MUST HAVE 3 INCH TIRES!”
Nonetheless, he rolled up to the start on that janky Synapse (the name was crossed out and replaced with Deep Search ala The Life Aquatic). Adam being the extremely adaptable trash panda he is, he made it pretty damn far on the Baja Divide with that rig.
When Adam rendezvoused with me out at Slab City straight off the Black Canyon Trail this past February I almost fell over laughing at the rig he had concocted. Though I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, he rode a cross check on the DFL the Divide ride.
The current iteration of his Performance Synapse at least has two of the same size wheels, rocking some very appropriate Kenda K-Rad tires. It sports a 2×8 Huret/Shimano mashup shifted by a hose clamped downtube shifter. Though the front derailleur is just for keeping the chain from dropping, in our 1X future its all about looking like you can shift…This bike is pièce de résistance of bike co-op bin scores held together with 12 hose clamps and countless zip ties. you may also notice the traction pegs on the pedals have been ground down as Adam doesn’t wear shoes.
But enough from me, here is a lil’ something straight from the horse’s mouth;
“Oh my! oh my dearest listener. I am writing to YOU not as the bicycle bag bad-baby that you see gallivanting around the globe upon different catastrophes of conveyance but as a simple, sleepy eastern possum, named Crystal(s), living in its nest-castle, in the corner of a big field, in this wall of sticky sticky sticky June heat, in the most beautiful and illuminated of places ~*~that’s right~*~ central North Carolina farmland.
Of the cornerstones in Crystal(s) short-but-not-so-SO-short life bicycle travel is a long and unbroken thread, holding dominion. Dominion over Crystal(s) entire possomhood ever since leaving the cuter days of scraggly possum adolescence in the helmet-mounted rear view. From the PHYSICALITY of moving bodies, reminding ourselves that we move (and that we move well!!) to the SOCIAL BEAUTY of actually graceful and kind bike punks helping one another against a most horrible and common enemy, to the social pitfalls of punks (people) in general. From the EMOTIONAL MINEFIELD of really trying hard to exist as a positive snowflake that doesn’t like dealing with the world quite how our possum parents dealt with it, and thereby built it (woopsy!) ~ to the medieval times styled affair that greets you as you enter most bike shops/culture hubs, ie. staged jousting, expense, EXPENSE, hunks of meat, a royalty-serf dichotomy, and lest we forget: you paying people to be mean to you because you don’t know how to do what you’re paying them to do.
I guess Crystal(s) can be cynical at times. BUT most of the time Crystal(s) feels positive about the way that the Bicycle is surging along in our cities and along the natural corridors of the world. And ALL of the time Crystal(s) really really digs riding bicycles around collecting experiences like their cool-looking rocks. And while Crystal(s) may not be rich in the current physical plane of existence, Crystal(s) did win the privilege lottery by being born looking a certain way. For this reason Crystal(s) generally shy’s away from giving advice on how to bicycle travel cheaply/shittily or whatever, It’s all pretty obvious stuff and plenty of people have written about it, AND it’s all so so particular to Crystal(s) or possums like Crystal(s). But Crystal(s) does want to use this platform.
“How so?”
Thanks for asking, several reasons.
The first being the self-aggrandizing glory spot-light stuff, woohoo! I can see my house from this cycling blog!
The next to say that the media that I consumed before taking a very small part in that media itself seemed like such a fairy tale! such uninhibited life! …but ol Crystal(s) over here is still trying to decide if decaf would be better for the afternoons and if fluoride is actually what possum teeth need (it’s still not, it’s still the government inside your brain).
The next, and finally, to say that I think of bikes as TOOLS or TOYS. We are all playing with toys.
So I guess if I had a point in all this coffee induced vibratory blabber-writing it would be that I wish we could all be bit nicer to each other, not give a fuck what bike/scooter/earth board(jk, fuck that) you move around on as long as you do care about the land and people you’re moving around. And please to not take ourselves quite so seriously with all this stuff: We’re just playing with different toys. and toys are fun. and fun is a radical substance that motivates.
Okay, okay.”
All the bags are DFL Stichworks customs made by Adam himself. if you want your bike to look as fly as this, just hit him up, but leave a voicemail as his flip phone’s screen is busted.
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Follow Adam on Instagram for more shenanigans.
I’m up in Portland to document the Vanilla Workshop Build-Off bikes and hang out in town for a few days. We’ll go into the event in-depth later, but the gist is, there are six bikes on display designed by various brands and individuals, of either completely new concepts, or simply a new paint scheme. The attendees and web-users will get a chance to vote on the best bike and that will become the next ready-made bike.
One of those bikes is perhaps the most unique builds to come from the Speedvagen brand. The team began with the idea of the Urban Racer – a stripped down, fast-paced, innercity bike – and expanded on its usage to the city and beyond. After design meetings and prototype, the GTFO was born, a bike designed to get you out of the city as fast as possible for an overnighter.
The GTFO will come with Syntace dropouts, making it easy to run either geared or singlespeed, in two models; the PRO model will come complete with Andrew the Maker bags, a painted to match bullmoose cockpit, and ZIPP wheels, or the normal package, which comes sans bags, a standard painted to match stem, and EA70ax wheels.
If this bike gets the “people’s choice” vote, it’ll join the ranks of the OG-1 and Urban Racer in Speedvagen’s Ready Made program and price will be determined then. We’ll be posting at a later date with details on how to vote!
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Follow Speedvagen on Instagram.
“I’m not tired, I’m just tired of the situation.”
Words by Cjell Monē and photos by Corbin Brady
Corbin’s family calls it ‘Going Nuclear’…It’s precisely the time when ol’ Hard Corbin stops enjoying the infinite riches of bikepacking and tells the world to ‘go, fuck itself.’ Two days of bike carrying and rationing food are a good recipe for a nuclear reaction.
Cass Gilbert over at bikepacking.com teamed up with a couple of nut-jobs living on an organic farm outside of Quito, the Dammer Brothers, to ride their bikes across Ecuador. I can’t tell you a lot about these guys other than between them they have 7 million bikepacking miles and their hobbies include lifting steel fatbikes over their heads.
If you look at the comments under the routes Cass Gilbert has published in the past, it usually looks something like:
RocketRon: 6/10 my ass. Hardest thing I’ve ever done.
MotorMary: Can’t believe they call this a “route”. Rode a total of 10 feet.
Bugoutcylist69: had 2 coronaries pushing my bike…6/10 difficulty… on a dirtbike piloted by Jesus Christ
Needless to say when Cass and a couple dudes built like Stalone in Rocky IV say ” I won’t mince my words. There are sizeable sections to this ride that are nothing less than punishing; it’s the hardcore… ” young men and women should heed these warnings.
It was the carrot of “Single Track” that compelled us. The Trans Ecuador Mountain Bike Route is 764 miles of dirt roads, footpaths, horse trail and wide open paramo down the Andes from Columbia to Peru. There exists a “dirt route” option that is pretty much the same route save some incredibly difficult hike-a-bike sections.
It’s when the two routes diverge on the map, one can be sure there’s good reason why. The ‘single track’ option would head high and far away from anything that resembled a road, path or trail. It left us, on a number of occasions, asking each other if we were on a trail at all, or could see one, or if our GPSs had any clues. The reply was almost always “nope.” Lifting our loaded bikes above our heads was more than not, the easiest way forward.
The trip came together under the orchestration of Izzy Krompegel. Izzy is a former employee of Black Sheep Bikes which is a common thread for her, Corbin and myself. Our fourth was the lead engineer and all around top athlete, Jenny Carmichael of All-City Cycles. A bikepacking dream team ready for adventure in far away lands…a perfect recipe ripe for mid-level online cycling publication.
After a few snafus in Quito, namely, Jenny arriving a day after she originally estimated, and I cracking (and subsequently repairing) my frame after some foolish skate park shenanigans, we were off.
The first portion of the route circumnavigated the volcano just to the south, Cotopaxi. It was a wet and muddy few days. We were happy to hose our bikes off, make coffee in the square and check out the stinky operation of the local cheese guy in the first village we came to.
Between the herculean climbs and massive descents, we would stop in to nourish ourselves at local comedors. Set meals usually came with a soup, “sopita”, and segundas which were usually chicken drumsticks or beef beat into submission alongside a heaping portion of rice and some beans. Jenny always seemed to be the lucky one with the chicken foot hidden in her soup.
The elevation wasn’t without its reward. Vast unimpeded views were the norm and not the exception. The countryside was a patchwork of green pasture and farm fields. Breathtaking was not only the result of the unrelenting altitude but the constant and unreal scenery that was on tap.
Early on, the large numbers of dogs became a theme. Ecuador, by my measure, could use a Bob Barker to remind its citizens to get their pets spayed or neutered, because conservative estimates would have us being chased by twenty or more dogs per day. Some were street dogs and some protecting homesteads, but oddly enough, it was the working shepherd dogs who we had the least issues with.
Jenny started a photo project early on cataloging the cutest among them (still waiting on those thoughtful images @minnepoopa). Corbin and I were happy to arm ourselves with stones as a deterrent. An empty cocked hand did little to dissuade the brave and observant K9s but a few actual rocks in hand were usually all that was required. The practice of putting an aggressive dog in its place with a few rocks was the practice of elderly women, small kiddos and most everyone along the route. Our sense of ferocity of a dog sharpened over the month. Only a couple dogs a day would actually get close enough to nip and our whispering and rock dissuasion improved to the point where we were usually up to the challenge.
I would recommend a small artisanal rock holster to anyone attempting a trip. I would often keep the rocks situated in the vents of my helmet which worked until it didn’t and then we were reduced to skid whips, shouting and my personal favorite, getting Corbin between me and the dogs.
Our time as a foursome was short. Jenny and Izzy headed back to Quito and ultimately back home while it was up to Corbin and me to navigate what remained of the route down to Peru in the 3 weeks we had left.
The rainy season was hanging on into June which meant most of our days had rain involved. Many nights we utilized shepherd huts made of grass and branches, or sometimes the odd piece of lumber. The moisture tested our fire making skills…Corbin is still working on his merit badge.
He does, however, earn his photography badge on the trip. These images are all taken on his 35mm SLR, and captured on around 30 rolls of film which weighed about as much as two Rohloff hubs. He carried his “kit” in a backpack, which also served the group well by adding capacity for extra supplies when the expand-ability was needed. Thanks, Backpack-guy!
When we couldn’t hit a comedor we prepared pasta or quinoa. Izzy and Jenny’s backcountry culinary aptitude shown greatly, our meals after they left got considerably more utilitarian.
A detour to Chimbrazo was a welcome one. The vicunas (alpaca’s skinny cousins) became more numerous as we left 14000′ behind and began the climb to the rufios (base camp buildings) above. Around 50 switchbacks later we locked up our bikes and hiked up the side of the volcano to top out at 17000′ which Corbin had made a point of reaching. I congratulated him on his 16900′ accomplishment and we bound back down to the bikes. A sweet sunset single-track decent got us back to the park entrance where we laid out bedrolls and stayed quiet until we were sure all employees were gone.
A Dammer brother had recommended the decent from the 14000′ volcano base directly to the jungle below. He was nice enough to include a GPX file to guide us down. Wow-wee, a highlight of the trip for sure. Over 5000′ later we arrived at the bottom after hitting some of the steepest, muddiest, gnarliest bits we had ridden since arriving. The route after reaching the bottom must have been made by an ultralight aircraft because it was loosely based on the roads that actually existed, but that sweet decent made it worth it.
When someone at home asks about the trip it’s very difficult not to recount the most challenging of days we spent out there. A day or so north of Cuenca, there is a section where the “single track” version of the route follows a much more direct path to the south and the “dirt route” seems to circumnavigate that area. Upon further investigation, the direct “single track” version crosses a relatively high number to topo lines…leading us to believe that there was going to be some climbing in there.
We joked about it afterwards, if we were to meet ourselves in Quito, but 30 days later and all the wiser about the route, we would likely try and convince our former selves that the “single track” version was very very difficult and you’d be well served to take the ‘dirt route”. Our former selves would likely discount that advice for being weak and less adventurous. And so it goes.
As we set out on the “single track” line we climbed up in elevation along a few small farm fields and then above we passed a rudimentary irrigation reservoir. This was the last time we had the luxury of following a trail, path, or hint of any traveler before us. At the reservoir, we searched around for a trail or path but quickly realized it was now up to us to blaze our way ahead along the GPX line laid out in front of us.
The ground was saturated and skipping around to keep shoes dry finally proved futile. We covered a small portion of the 30 miles section over the next few hours. That brought us to the base of a steep ridge 500 feet above our heads. Again we zoomed in tightly on the GPS which yielded nothing. It was up to us to scramble up the steep hillside. Pushing bikes was no longer a viable method of forwarding progress. We hoisted bike above our heads and began climbing. At a point on the long scramble up the crumbling tussock covered hillside I checked my GPS again. Of the 30 miles for this section, we had probably covered 3.
I had half a thought it might be a good time to turn back as we didn’t have the provisions for 10 times the effort we had just given. I did, however, notice that the route undulated up high for some time and then dropped down along a dotted line…dotted line, like a trail…oooo, a trail, how glorious the thought.
After gaining the ridge it was more of the same. Corbin had yet to go nuclear but we weren’t talking much either. More bike carries and scramble. Long gone was the sweet time of pushing the bike along the ground. The sun was now setting, it was time to camp.
We found a saddle that had a trickle of water. We were glad to be wet camping. I should also mention that since climbing and gaining the ridge the scenery had become intensely beautiful. Grand views of vast, sheer-walled valleys framed Ecuador’s tallest volcano, our old friend Chimborazo.
After setting up our tarp and playing our new favorite card game, cribbage, we were treated with an amazing scene of a husband and wife team of Caballeros riding along the rugged Páramo . Their silhouettes were highlighted by a spectacular sunset. They rode up with three shepherd dogs. They were as likely as interested as to what we were doing, as we were interested in what they were doing, a long ways from nowhere. It had been a day since the last human encounter, we were in a very remote part of the country.
The next morning we took stock in what remained for food. By this time we had covered around 5 of the 30 miles. 5. I was getting hungry thinking about it.
I knew we were shooting for the dotted line and things had to improve when we got there. We were treated to a section of very rough but slightly undulating section of thick grass were we able push bikes again….ahhh, pushing. The route again went directly up a few ridges where pushing was no longer viable. scramble scramble scramble with loaded rigs on our backs. Saw one other cowboy and that was it for human sightings. We were out there. After a break and a small number of slightly foul pumpkin seeds from weeks before, we again hoisted our bikes. Corbin started asking about the whereabouts of this “dotted line” although I noticed he wasn’t asking in a kind and friendly way. I could sense that nuclear meltdown was imminent.
I can’t tell you the number of times that I checked progress and was stunned. Now around 10 of 30 miles had been covers. Remote, stunning and fucking hard. A few most scrambles that had us slipping and falling down some steep sections made the whole scene almost poetically futile. 12 of 30 miles. There was a point were a game trail appeared on a ridge and I filmed Corbin riding, RIDING, his bike. It was as short as it was glorious. Corbin again inquired about this dotted line, but by this time the nuclear sequence had commenced. He’d had it. What was the point of all this bike carrying? And where the hell is this dotted line!
“I’m not tired, I’m just tired of this situation.” Pretty much a lie, because this had to be the most tiring of bike “rides” either of us had ever attempted.
We had another meager snack at a saddle with a lake and the start of a dotted line. Oh sweet sweet dotted line. The dotted line turned out to be a rotten trick. For all the elevation we had gained, the dotted line was more bike carrying up steep unrideable, un-pushable terrain. After a few more hours of that, we seemed to be at a high point.
Down. Down down down. We had another short-lived section were I filmed Corbin as he skidded and wheelied his way down. The faint horse track soon got steeper and rockier and all of the sudden the trail deteriorated further until the thought of riding was only a memory.
The trail/path, whatever it was became very hard to walk down with the bike on the back. Steep eroded walls caught handlebars and sent you spinning down a steep boulder-filled stream bed. This was the height of the nuclear reaction. Curse words that I dare not repeat of the Radavist poured out of Corbin’s mouth. This descent wasn’t a descent at all but a struggle for survival.
The flat meadow at the bottom was no reprieve. It was a lowland that had muddy cuts in the valley wall. Again, un-pushable and ever-punishing. Afternoon turned to evening and all of 20 miles had been covered in the 2 days.
We started looking for outs, but rivers and steep valley walls stood between us and faint roads. We pressed on along the GPX track. The last 10 miles were some of the chunkiest sloppiest riding I’ve done in some time….but we were riding. It felt great. Spirits had lifted since the ridge of doom, followed by the scramble of death, followed by the descent of sadness and the swampy valley of solace. We were riding and loving it. The last 5 miles were a road, glorious potholed, dog infested road. The sunset as we check ourselves into a small guesthouse. The pictures are amazing and the account is one that will be called upon whenever I remember back to this trip. 30 of the toughest miles I’ve ever traversed accompanied by a bike.
Cuenca was a welcome respite. We Air BnB’ed and did laundry and road our unloaded bike around the city. We even caught the tail end of a downhill race. Cobbles, old churches, and good coffee. Loved us some Cuenca.
The route south was beautiful and wet and tough. The time spent above 10000′ has a way of breaking you down. When we wrapped up in Loja, another beautiful Ecuadorian City we were pooped. Proud of our accomplishment and happy to be done. A few days on the beach and some well deserved down time back in Quito before we boarded our planes and returned home. The TEMBR Route is no joke. I have no advice for anyone attempting it, other than you should bring a small rock pouch and a couple friends.
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Tired of having a saddle pack that sways from side to side or is increasingly saggy but don’t want to or can’t go to a full-on touring rack? The Tailfin Aero Pack looks to solve your problems. With three models, the Tailfin will fit on just about any bike and looks to make your bicycle tour easier. See more at their very successful Kickstarter.
Three friends from Friction Collective recently rode 1,000 miles through Malaysia, discovering colossal mountains, deep impenetrable rainforest, searing heat, pristine coastlines and some of the kindest people. Follow Tim, Jack, and Tom on their second adventure in the ‘Velo’ series. The full video drops August 28th at Look Mum No Hands in London and Spoke and Stringer in Bristol on September 4th.
It doesn’t matter where you reside on this pleasant globe, chances are you’ve come across a few Trek 520 touring bikes in your day. Keeping with the tradition of a no-hassle, utilitarian design, the brand just launched the 2019 iteration of the tried and true steel platform with a complete bike ready for your next road tour, down to the front and rear racks, with a price tag that’s hard to argue with of $1,574.99 for the complete. There’s also a 520 frameset with throwback decals for $639.99. Head to Trek for more information!
When the Ramble Ride popped onto the horizon in my late summer travel and photo shoot plans, the guys at Moots offered up one of their prized models, the Baxter, for me to ride. Out of all their bikes in what I would consider a stout lineup, the Baxter is one that always stood out to me as the most versatile. The beauty about this bike platform is the Baxter is what you want it to be, although it’s designed to essentially be a drop bar 29’r. How you build it is up to you and there are options like with a suspension fork, or with a rigid fork, with or without a dropper post, and everything in between. Di2 or cable, double crankset or 1x, and now with the updated boosted rear spacing, compatibility with your “other” mountain bike wheelsets. The guys at Moots are great at constructing these frames, it’s just up to you to make them roll…
I spent three solid days on this bike and while that’s usually not enough for a full-length review, I thought I’d share my thoughts on it. Granted, I only rode this Baxter fully-loaded on the Ramble Ride, so I didn’t get the chance to take it out for an unloaded spin around Steamboat Springs, where Moots is based and coincidentally where the Ramble Ride departed from.
Build Kit
Let’s just jump right into the build kit. Since I had no idea what to expect on this ride – and considering most of it was above 8,000′ in elevation – I really wanted gearing conducive to 10+ hour days in the saddle, traversing steep mountain roads, while being able to keep up on the flats without spinning out too much. Thanks to the road and mountain connectivity of Di2, Jon from Moots set this bike up with Dura Ace Di2 shifters, mated to a Di2 XT drivetrain, including a front derailleur. With the double crankset and an 11-40 rear cassette, I’d be able to spin up just about anything, including singletrack. The comfort of road shifters, mated with the gearing of a mountain bike made the long days in the saddle all the more enjoyable. All in all, I shifted a lot with the front derailleur, but after three full days on the bike, I managed to use only one bar of the Di2 battery. For anything longer than an extended weekend getaway, I would probably consider other mechanical build kit options.
On rides like the ramble, which are 80% dirt road, 15% paved, and 5% singletrack, give or take, I didn’t feel the need for suspension or a dropper post, but if those numbers had been switched around a bit, I might have opted for at least a suspension fork. With a geometry optimized for 100mm of travel, the Baxter allows you to get playful without feeling like you’re going to jettison over the bars in error. Yet, for this sort of ride, a rigid fork will climb better, which is what I really concerned about. A dropper would have been fun on the descents, but I didn’t feel it was necessary.
The Astral Wanderlust alloy rims, laced to White Industries hubs gave me no issues, felt great on the rough stuff, and are still perfectly true after a rather abusive round of bike touring. It’s nice having more MUSA rim options out there! Even the Thunder Burt – a tire I have a love/hate relationship with – held up fine. I tend to go with flat pedals on rides like this and either hiking boots or sandals, depending on the weather. My Race Face Atlas pedals have held up to excessive abuse over the years and feel great on your feet at the end of a long day. All in all, this dream bike rode like a dream. You can see where I’m getting at here. When you don’t have to worry about anything on a bike, you can really enjoy the ride and for me, it just leaves more mental capacity to doing what I do best, take photos!
Ride Quality
There’s nothing like titanium. It’s one of the most forgiving materials at the end of a rough day. You don’t get the chatter of aluminum, or the resonance of carbon, and while steel provides an amazingly compliant ride, titanium just feels all the smoother. Even with a big, beefy fork like the rigid ENVE MTB fork, and reasonable tire pressure, avoiding snake bite or rim damage, the bike just absorbed so much road vibration from washboarded corners, even without Moots’ famed YBB soft tail technology – there is a bike like this with YBB in the works, by the way.
My initial concern of the bike being a noodle with all that weight on it subsided as we were pedaling out of town the morning of the Ramble. Perhaps past experienes with smaller-diameter tubing on older ti bikes made me think it’d be a bit squirrely, but the modern oversized tubing Moots uses is anything but that. There’s a beauty in its ride quality and one that is difficult to grasp with words.
Final Points
The thing that sticks out the most about Moots is the construction and the quality of the welds. When you invest in one of their frames, you’re buying into decades of experience with titanium, born in Steamboat Springs, Colorado. While you can’t see it here, this bike actually has quite the finishing job. With a aspen-inspired graphic on the seat tube, a blasted and polished logo, and a nice, brushed finish, the frame itself is a piece of art. One that I strapped bags to and thrashed around dirt roads in the back country of Colorado. I wanted to strip the bike to showcase these details, but I felt it was misleading since I didn’t ride the bike unloaded, and to be quite honest, I like the way it looks here just fine!
Like all Moots frames, they aren’t cheap, but with titanium, you really are buying a lifetime investement. Later down the line, if you’d like things added to your frame, like rack or fender mounts, the team at Moots can make that happen. These are available in stock sizing, from XS to XL, a variety of finishes, one stock build kit, or just as a frameset. Pricing is $4,629 for the frameset, including the ENVE fork, or $8,699 built with a similar kit as seen here. For matching Porcelain Rocket bags, holler at Scott and his team!
See more details at Moots.
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Spend enough time outdoors, camping, bikepacking, or touring, and you’ll end up with a few tales. In a blog post on their website, Snow Peak tells their own titanium story. Head on over to the Snow Peak Blog for more.
Scratching from the Silk Road Mountain Race
Words and photos by Max Burgess
So what happens when you make the decision to quit the first edition of one of the most anticipated endurance races on the planet? I’m laying outside a yurt at 3,000m above sea level, next to Son Kul Lake in Kyrgyzstan. I’m exhausted. The last few days of the Silk Road Mountain Race have tested me to the limit both physically and mentally.
It is the first time for my race partner Justin and myself to take part in an endurance race and if the truth be told, we never really came to race. It was evident from the first day out of Bishkek, as we meandered up Kegeti Pass along with our friend Jon. A few weeks earlier, I had divided the entire race route into manageable chunks that would put us at the finish in 13 days. But, as I’m lying by Son Kul lake at the first checkpoint, the reality dawned on what we are actually taking part in. We are already 24-hours behind our schedule within five days and can’t afford to loose any more time. Missed flights home are not an option for either Justin or myself, especially that I have a ten-year wedding anniversary only a few days after my return!
In the days leading up to checkpoint one, we had become acutely aware of how much work we needed to do to make it there before the deadline. Reaching the checkpoint had already become our own little race. If our experience to that point had been about enjoying a beautiful country and the generosity of the Kyrgyz people; from then on it would be about getting our heads down and keeping the pedals turning well into the dark of night.
On the day of the checkpoint closure, we were up at 5am and on the road shortly after. Ahead of us was a 5-hour section of ‘hike-a-bike’ where the gradient was just too steep to ride up especially with loaded bikes. This gave me plenty of time to think, and so began the internal battle of whether to continue the race or not. With hindsight, we could have easily managed to make it around the course if we had ‘come-out-racing’ from day 1. But it seemed to us, that this required a commitment to ‘race’. There would be no time for chai stops with local families, riverside picnics and swimming, no time for relaxed camping with freshly brewed coffee every morning.
You are probably reading this and asking why we entered a race in the first place; I know, I asked myself that question many times during my 5-hour hike. We were under no illusions about finishing high up the list, we often joked that our main aim was ‘survival’. The reason to participate was connected more to the community of the event. You can go touring or bikepacking in these amazing places, but the race and people around something like SRMR add a whole new level of interest. Following who is where on the course, who had scratched, what the top five are doing was all part of the fun.
Part of this very community is now sitting in front of me at the yurt camp; drinking beer and eating the food prepared by our hosts. Each person sitting at the table is at a metaphorical crossroad, with a decision to make before the next morning; do they stay in the race and carry on to CP2 or do they join the list of scratchers and continue on their own adventure?
Justin and I have already resolved to leave the race and go back to enjoying Kyrgyzstan. We were to be joined by Carlos and Philipp; a photographer and filmmaker respectively, both from Hamburg. Philipp had spent the last 12-hours lying unconscious in the yurt and wasn’t in any condition to continue on. We had new friends and formed our own little groupetto. Now it was time to get on with what mattered… Exploring.
The next morning we set out from the yurt camp, leaving the race route on one of the most amazing gravel descents I have ridden. We headed east towards the city of Naryn where all four of us would be simultaneously struck down with stomach problems. Another pair, Chris and Rob (Rob of Quirk Cycles) had scratched from the race due to mechanical problems with Chris heading back to the UK. Rob decided to join our groupetto.
With our bodies repaired and our ranks swelled to five, we set out on the last major leg of our journey – Naryn to Kochkor. We went back into exploration mode and although we continued along the race route into the Kapka-Tash mountain range, we decided against heading further east and instead towards the Jalpak-Bel Pass.
Our three-day journey took us through a picturesque canyon that followed the Small Naryn River. The pace was easy and the conversation was flowing among the new group of friends. Moments that might have been stressful in a race situation now became sources of amusement; like searching for breakfast supplies in a village…
The village of Eki-Naryn would be our last resupply point for two days and was in the process of being dug up for new utilities. In a country where most toilets are a hole in the ground, this sight was quite a surprise. Our map showed three shops and all of them required an expedition over trenches to reach. All were closed. We stood and scratched our heads outside the last of them, as the shop owner came out and invited us to his home for a breakfast of kumis and bread. I guess this is what people say about priceless moments, which become the memories to cherish. If we had still been racing, this would have been time we couldn’t afford to lose.
Our last night of camping would see us set up base just before the Jalpak-Bel pass. We found refuge from the freezing wind blowing up the valley in an area usually reserved for a flock of sheep (going by the mess on the ground). It also happened to be on the junction where the race route came down from Issyk-Kul Lake before heading on towards Kochkor.
As we set up our tents, a dazed and race-weary looking Pete (Cap 27) who had just battled the snows on the Tosor Pass noticed us and stopped for a chat. He had a somewhat confused expression while he ran his eyes over our merry group. Maybe it was surprising seeing us at this point of the race, maybe it was the fresh look and smile each of us had? As we explained our story to him, a look of understanding washed across his face.
That is the moment I realized that I wasn’t cut out for this kind of racing. I will happily stick to exploring new countries; I will leave the racing to the racers.
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See more on this route at the Silk Road Mountain Race! Follow Max on Instagram and Podia on Instagram.
The Peru Divide is an incredibly scenic route in the Andes. In this video, CyclingAbout takes it on. For more information on the route and other resources, check out the YouTube page!