Today I Met The Grey Bearded Biker

Cold steel, the bike doesn’t have bar tape.  I’ve lived in Cincinnati’s Columbia Tusculum neighborhood for four years and for four years on my commute in to downtown I’ve seen Grey Beard at least weekly riding in the opposite direction.  All year round, his outfit never seems to change: thick dark hoodie, weathered overalls, leather gloves, no helmet.  Some days I’m in my truck, other days I’m on a bike too.  Unbeknownst to him, occasionally we pass at the Montgomery Inn Boathouse, other days St. Rose Church always on Riverside Drive.  He rolls his drive side pants leg up, exposing a light tan leather boot top.  On colder days his messy crop of grey hair occasionally peeks from under a knit hat.  His unmistakable grey beard always catches the wind.  I met him today, it figures, at Starbucks.

Who is this guy who rides away from downtown on a beater at 8:15am?

Cincinnati’s East End and Columbia Tusculum neighborhoods along the riverfront are mixed.  3- 700 thousand dollar houses share the road with modest apartments and dilapidated structures eligible for the “We Buy Ugly Houses” people.  A barge/rail terminal sits adjacent to this month’s latest fire victim and next month’s new condo.  In this mix of wealth and poverty, industry and small business, luxury and staples, on any given Saturday morning a guy carrying a 12-pack under his arm while one-handing a beater mountain bike gets passed by a jogger with $150 shoes and an iPhone strapped to her upper arm.  I’d be stereotyping if both the guy with the 12-pack and the jogger weren’t my neighbors.  To each their own.  Question is where does Grey Beard fit in?

From the fleeting seconds I’ve seen Grey Beard from my truck at 35mph, the 25 year old relic of a bike looks like it was picked from the recycling pile behind the bike shop.  It’s a dirty purple, maybe maroon, with down tube shifters and platform pedals, sort of like the one pictured without the racks.  The seat post is low, but fits his legs.  The bars are turned down and he’s stretched out.  His hands engulf the small hoods, brake lever and all.  All-that aside, he rides with remarkable speed, confidence and form: knees in, back low, beard in the breeze.  What intrigues me the most about this oddity is the lock and chain knotted around the bars and quill stem.  He obviously cares about the bike. 

It's no surprise.  He said he got the bike from a friend’s shed for nothing.  I met him today for the first time at Starbucks, of all places.  I held the door for him as he walked in behind me and struck up a conversation.  “Hey.  I see you nearly every week on my way to work.”  Well spoken, he says he’s almost home.  He works overnights downtown.  He’s on his way home when I’m on my way to work.  He is a neighbor and the bike is an old Miyata.  He invested $250 into it to keep it alive.  Up close, aside from being weathered, the bike sports newer tires.  The cables, saddle, and wheels seem to be in decent shape.  It’s solid vintage steel.  He says he knows his bike isn’t pretty, but it gets the job done, 12 miles a day. 

He asked if I ride and what kind of bike I have.  “I ride a Kuota" clarifying, "an Italian bike.”  I kick myself thinking I was too pretentious with the Italian comment, but he asks if it’s one of those “really light ones.”  "Yep.  It’s carbon fiber.”  Half expecting a roll of the eyes, he says something like, “Man, I just love the brakes on those newer bikes.”  I mention how well they modulate speed.  He understands.  He’s genuinely interested talking bikes.  We're clicking, but the barista was too quick.  My coffee is ready.  Sadly, I didn't have time for a picture.  “Have a good day,” I say.

As I pull my big dumb SUV out of the lot on Earth Day, the Starbucks door swings open.   With coffee in hand, he walks toward his Miyata, now appearing much cooler than the first time I had seen it.  My roof rack catches his eye and he waves.  Affirming, I wave back.  We’re two bike guys, one punching in, the other punching out.

In Heaven There Is No Clipless Pedals

…or spandex cycling shorts for that matter. I just returned from a week in Whistler, BC the home of the Nordic events of the 2010 Winter Olympics based in Vancouver. I have the Quatchi souvenir Olympic lunch box to prove it. We and maybe three other people were the only cyclists without platform pedals, baggy shorts and more suspension on our rental car than our bikes.

While expensive, Whistler is Heaven, not only in the sense of gorgeous freshwater mountain lakes surrounded by lush glaciated peaks fed by a network of great bike trails and paths, but also in the sense of pretty much any sport that that has ever graced the cover of Outside Magazine you can do in Whistler. Hiking, mountain climbing, bouldering, zip lining, eco-touring, kayaking, bungee jumping, canoeing, sky-gliding, horseback riding, ATVing, or skiing, you name it and you can do it in Whistler. While Breckenridge and Park City continue to draw more summer vacationers each time I visit, they are still only a notch above ghost town when compared to Whistler. The only difference between having a beer at the base of Whistler Mountain in September and January is the temperature and those coming down the hill in September have big bombing downhill bikes rather than ski’s and snowboards. The place was packed with people and bikes! However, I have a love-hate relationship with cycling in Whistler.

We love taking summer vacations to ski-areas more or less for the great cycling and off-peak rates. Whistler is a bit different than say a Breckenridge or a Park City. Whistler, at about 2100 feet above sea level, doesn’t have the altitude to make a fit person get a head rush climbing the stairs to the post office. If you want to travel from a low lying city like Cincinnati and go out for a five hour hike or ride or paddle in the mountains the minute you get off the plane, Whistler is the place no Sherpa or acclimatizing necessary. My big problem with Whistler is the mountain biking.

Yes. I have an issue with mountain biking in Whistler.

The issue is that the trails in Whistler are marked with easy, intermediate and expert signs when they should be marked with cartoon pictures of testicles: one small nut for easy and three huge ones for expert. I’m not talking about the downhill mountain bike park. When you put your bike up on a ski lift and are surrounded by people with full face helmets, body armor, and enough suspension to make a Hummer jealous, you know what you’re getting yourself into and you better have a big nut sack. Believe me, there were plenty of dudes wearing casts walking, hobbling or wheeling their chairs through Whistler Village to prove it. I’m talking about Whistler’s general single track trails around town, what you might call cross country trails. The Whistler Valley trail maps may try to deceive you with a variety of expert, intermediate (sign above says it all) and easy trails. There are really only two types of unpaved trails in Whistler: awkward rooty and rocky with varying degrees of drop offs or wood structures or silky smooth crushed gravel easy trails and fire roads.

Durango, Breckenridge, Park City, Pisgah, Tsali, you name it they’re all packed with what I’d call great cross country mountain bike trails. Trails that usually start out with a nice long climb and level out on some sort of ridgeline trail that traverses the mountain side. When I laid the Whistler map across the coffee table, I eyed the Intermediate (blue) Rainbow Sproat trail and a drip of drool plopped on the map. It appeared as I described above. However detailed, topo maps don’t show endless rock gardens, drop offs and the density of 4 inch tree roots per mile. While the double/single track climb was fine, when I got to the actual Rainbow Sproat Trail, it was an unrelenting exercise at maneuvering through the obstacles: rocks and roots and surprise drops. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy the challenge. I cleaned most of it on a sweet XT equipped rented Rocky Mountain Element from Summit Bikes. Even though the switchbacks were fun and the scenic payoff at Rainbow Falls was breathtaking, I really didn’t enjoy the riding itself.

I have daydreams about the Peaks Trail in Breckenridge and the Mid-Mountain Trail in Park City. Just like Whistler, the climbs are tough and so are the various drops, rocks and roots. Unlike Whistler, the technical sections of other mountain town trails are broken up between long stretches of flowing single track. Single track that makes you say woo-hoo as you whiz through hours and miles of forests and meadows. Whistler single track is all tough and technical. By the time I rode the intermediate ranked Rainbow Sproat, Cut Yer Bars, the tight single track at Long Lake Park and watching my wife wreck on a trail called Blueberry…I didn’t dare tackle any expert trails (photo of Comfotably Numb trail junction in Long Lake Park) without a bigger bike and more protective gear.

Whistler trails, more specifically the intermediate and expert ones, all require expert technical ability. The only discernable difference I could see between expert and intermediate trails was the size of the dropoffs or how high the wooden bridges were. Twenty meters into any intermediate trail and I soon realized why so many people were wearing body armor and baggy shorts, had platform pedals and their saddle lowered on trails outside of the ski lift area. That’s cool, if you know what you’re getting yourself into. So, now you know what you’re getting yourself into. There's no middle ground in Whistler. It's body armor or basically bike path.

Till I vacationed in Whistler, I never saw the need for more than 100mm of front suspension or to lower my saddle or wear body armor or to go with platform pedals. Although from time to time I’d prefer a full suspension XC bike, I’d take my Niner Air 9 hard tail to Breckenridge, Park City, Durango, Moab, Pisgah, Tsali or dark West Virginia single track in a heart beat. My Niner in Whistler would be like bringing a knife to a gunfight.

Whistler made me realize my favorite mountain biking combines the free flowing beauty of Whistler’s “easy” trails with the occasional challenge of Whistlers rocks, roots and drop-offs. It's just that In Whistler, you can't have both at the same time.

In The Tour De France Mind Of Columbia HTC's Bradley Wiggins

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The Manx Missile? What’s Wrong With Cuddle Comet?

Unless you’re in Europe, The Manx Missile nickname for Columbia HTC sprinter Mark Cavendish leaves more questions than answers. It took 2 hours on Wiki pages and a bottle of scotch before I learned what Manx actually is. Then I passed out.

Manx is a breed of cat with a spinal mutation that causes them to have short or under-developed tails. Really! It’s true. Check out the little nubbin' in the picture. They are cute and cuddly, which does bode well for Cavendish’s spirited post race teammate hugging. However, I doubt any man wants to be nicknamed after something with a short tail. Additionally, I do recall, while watching the podium presentation, a female in the room pointed out that Caven-dash did deliver quite an express package to the finish line. Seriously, Cavendish is from the Isle of Man, which floats in the water off the coast of England. Locally the island, language and people are known as Manx.

I’m sure Manx is a wonderful place, but it might as well be the moon. That’s coming from someone who’s probably more traveled than most. Traveling to Scotland, Germany, and The Netherlands, I’ve probably flown over the Isle quite a few times and didn’t even know it. Till you read this, I’m guessing you didn’t know much about Manx and might be consulting your World Atlas right now. Secondly, I don’t think Manx Missile has the same panache of Petacchi’s Ale-Jet or McEwen’s Pocket Rocket. May I suggest the following nickname idea’s for Mark Cavendish:

Cannon-dish (or any knock off’s of his name such as: Kickin' Kavendish, Caven-dash, Caven-dart, Cannon-flash). While not as creative as Manx Missile, they are all more understandable without consulting the World Atlas.

British Bullet. Sure people from the Isle of Man probably prefer Manx, but nicknames need to cast a wider umbrella. Plus, a bullet with a British flag would make a killer logo or bike paint job.

Space Shuttle Columbia. He’s fast like a rocket. His team is Columbia. Uh…what? Oooh, forgot about that. Nevermind.

Marcus The Tank Engine. Fun and kid friendly, could make for great merchandising.

Highspeed Hugger or Cuddle Comet. Take your pick. They’re both gold baby. GOLD!

Expeditious Cavendishious. Okay I shouldn’t have opened up the Thesaurus.

Juvi Jet or Jumpin Juvi. What? He’s fast. He’s young. C’mon.

Okay. Maybe Manx Missile isn’t all that bad after all.

Cavendish Wins Stage 3 - Calls The Best Bike Blog Ever